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I, Conqueror: Part 7

By SwordnQuil

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: The best Conqueror tale I’ve ever read, this story follows a similar line to Remember Nothing (No violence alt-universe Xena). Gabrielle wakes up to find herself in a universe where Xena has conquered Greece, Callisto is her right-hand, and the world trembles at her feet. Can she set to rights this world turned upside-down?

Reality resolved itself in slow motion and Xena blinked into the bright sunshine, tightening her hold on Gabrielle, whose knees buckled beneath her. "Where are we?"

Swallowing several times to clear the nausea in her belly, the bard looked around at the vast, empty field they were currently standing in the middle of. "I don’t know," she replied finally, grateful for the support of Xena’s warm, strong body behind her.

Xena tightened her grip again, causing Gabrielle to gasp in pain. "What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? You sent us here."

"Well, technically, I sent us to a ‘when’. Not exactly a ‘where’. I think." I hope.

Spinning the smaller woman in her arms, the Conqueror grabbed Gabrielle’s shoulders and shook her. "Explain yourself, Amazon. Now."

"I will, I promise—Xena, hurting me isn’t going to do anything but make me pass out right now, so if you could just loosen up a little..." She sighed in relief as the harsh grip on her shoulders lessened just slightly. A cool wind blew across the field, bending back the golden grasses and causing her to break out into gooseflesh. She spied a small copse of trees to the west and gestured with her head. "Could we just go over there for now?"

Looking in the indicated direction, the Conqueror’s eyes narrowed. Trees were where the Amazons felt most at home. "Why."

"Because it’s cold and I’m naked. I’d like to go somewhere where I’m not quite so exposed."

Staring into the trees, Xena extended her senses, tasting, listening and smelling for danger. Though she was acutely wary, all seemed quiet. Releasing Gabrielle’s shoulders, she spun the woman again, and, taking her upper arm in a firm grip, her free hand on her chakram, she marched her captive toward the copse, eyes ever vigilant for danger.

Gabrielle questioned her choice as soon as they stepped within the leafy shelter of the small wood. The grove was seeded with bramble bushes which tore at her unprotected flesh. "Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea," she mumbled, pulling a thorn the size of her thumb out of her bare thigh.

After a final, and thorough, examination of the area, Xena released her healer and, sighing, pulled her cape from the epaulets on her shoulder-guards. "Lift your arms."

As Gabrielle did so, the Conqueror twirled the cape in the freshening breeze, then wrapped it around the bard’s body like a sheath, pinning it closed over her right breast with the bejeweled throat closure.

Because of their vast differences in height, the cape fell to below Gabrielle’s knees, but at least she was protected from the ire of the woods, and just a bit warmer in the bargain. She smiled her thanks, smoothing the silk against her body.

"Now talk, Amazon. No diversions. No games. The truth. Now."

"Alright..."

"Now, Amazon. Where are we? Where is Alcmene?"

Gabrielle scratched at the back of her neck. "Well, you see, Alcmene isn’t exactly a ‘where’. It’s a ‘who’. A very pregnant ‘who’. At least I hope she is."

"Enough of this foolishness!"

"Xena, please. I’m not being foolish. It’s just...hard to explain. If you would just relax a moment and give me time to think..." She looked deep into icy, glaring eyes. "Or not."

Gabrielle took in a deep breath. "The stone transported us into the past. I think it’s about thirty years ago, maybe thirty five. I can’t be too sure. We’re - well I’m here to try and prevent Callisto from killing Alcmene."

The Conqueror’s eyes narrowed again. "Callisto? That’s not possible."

"Yes, Xena, it is possible. Remember, Callisto gave the Cronus Stone to you. That was after she had finished using it to murder Alcmene and change the tapestry of time."

"Explain." The command was sharp and brooked no argument.

Gabrielle breathed deeply again. "Callisto is - was - from another reality. A reality in which you, like she said, killed her family."

"How? How did I kill her family?"

"She’s from Cirra."

Xena’s eyes clouded as she sifted through her memories. The village name sounded familiar. Then she remembered. Once, on a raid, her men had accidentally set the town ablaze. She couldn’t recall any survivors and told Gabrielle as much.

"Maybe not in this reality, but where Callisto’s from, she survived. She blamed you for the death of her family and dedicated her life to hunting you down and killing you to make you pay for what you’d done."

"A very interesting tale, Amazon."

"It’s a true tale, Xena." Turning slightly, Gabrielle saw a fallen log and walked over to sit down. Her wound was throbbing and she felt weak and light-headed. She ran a hand over her brow, relieved to find it cool and dry. Then she looked back up at her impatient listener. "For whatever reason, instead of attacking you outright this time, she obtained the Cronus Stone, went back in time to where we are now, and killed Alcmene."

"And what purpose did this killing serve?"

"It changed the course of history."

Xena smiled slightly. "And how did it do that."

Gabrielle crossed her arms, hugging her body to try and ward off the coolness of the breeze. "Alcmene is a very beautiful woman. The bards say that Zeus was so enamored with her that he took the form of her husband and impregnated her. She bore a son who she named Hercules."

The Conqueror nodded. "Hercules. The same mythical demigod you used to regale my men in the healing tent." Her tone conveyed her disbelief.

"He’s not a myth. Or maybe he is, here. But I’m telling you, he did exist, before Callisto changed history by killing his mother."

"I’ll ask you again, Amazon. How did the death of one man, mythical beast slayer or not, supposedly change history?"

"There could be any number of ways, I suppose. But I only know of one for sure."

Xena raised an eyebrow. "And that was?"

A sudden rustling was heard in the treetops, and Xena looked up, her chakram already in her hand. A flock of birds set down to roost, and the Conqueror relaxed marginally, her weapon still at the ready. She stared down at the seated woman. "Your compatriots certainly seem in no great hurry to collect you, Amazon."

The young woman sighed, rubbing her arms to ward off the chill. "For the last time, Xena, I have no compatriots. It’s just me here, hoping against hope that I’ve done the right thing." She looked down, digging fitfully at a partially exposed root with her bare toe. "Anyway, getting back to your question. About four years or so ago, Hercules came upon a warlord who attempted to gain even more power by pitting him against his best friend and making off with the spoils." She looked up at the Conqueror, who, despite her demeanor, was listening intently. "It didn’t work. The warlord left, defeated."

Xena snorted. "Of course he did. With his tail between his legs while the enterprising duo was left to fight another day. That’s always the way these foolish tales end. With good yet again winning out over evil." Her eyes became diamond chips. "That doesn’t happen in reality, Amazon. Any reality."

Gabrielle decided that ignoring Xena’s snide remarks was the best strategy, for if she rose to the bait being dangled, Callisto would carve Alcmene in little pieces while she and the Conqueror will still arguing in the woods. "Some time passed and Hercules met the warlord again, though this time under much different circumstances. He found the warlord alone, after she," the bard took in a deep breath, "after she had been forced to run the gauntlet of her own army for saving a baby." White teeth were displayed as the bard pensively chewed at her lower lip. "The warlord was known as Xena: the Warrior Princess."

The world rushed crazily by as Gabrielle felt herself hauled to her feet by the front of her impromptu garment. Her face was so close to the Conqueror’s that she could smell the warm scent of Xena’s breath. "How do you know these things, Amazon? How!"

"You’ll have your answers if you put me down and let me finish the story."

Xena spun at a sound behind her, dropping the bard and unsheathing her sword. In the near distance, running as if for her very life, the Conqueror spied a very pregnant woman. The woman’s legs tangled in the remnants of her long peasant skirt and she tripped, disappearing from sight beneath the tall, swaying grasses. "Alcmene, I presume."

Gabrielle, who had never seen the woman before, could only hope and nod.

A split second later, a familiar form materialized as if from the very air, threw back her head, laughed, and, extending one thin arm, lit the grasses sheltering Alcmene aflame with a bolt that flew from her fingertips.

The bard rubbed at her chin. "Um, there’s something I forgot to mention about Callisto."

"So it would seem."

"She’s a god now."

Feeling Callisto turn to glance her way, Xena drew behind the thick trunk of a sheltering tree, her silvered eyes narrow and thoughtful.

"Now do you believe me?" Gabrielle asked, pressing herself flat behind the Conqueror.

"It will take a great deal more than that light show to make a believer out of me, Amazon." Xena’s body was tense as she cautiously peered around the trunk, watching intently as Callisto, laughing again, aimed another bolt at the now wildly running Alcmene. The bolt missed, but not by much.

If the Conqueror knew her second, and she did, Callisto was merely toying with the woman, having her sport before committing the act which would permanently end her enjoyment of the chase.

"Believer or not, we need to rescue her," Gabrielle whispered.

"And why is that," Xena returned, not taking her eyes off the action.

"Why?" Gabrielle repeated, stunned. "Xena, in case you didn’t notice, that woman is pregnant. And helpless against Callisto, god or not! She’s going to die!"

"Death happens, Amazon."

The bard gritted her teeth and gathered the cloak around her more tightly. "Not while I’m around to stop it."

Xena wrapped an arm around her before Gabrielle could even think to move away from the trees.

"Let me go!" she hissed.

"Be quiet," the Conqueror intoned, watching as the fleeing woman changed direction, now heading directly toward them as if drawn to their position.

Giggling delightedly, Callisto flicked out her finger and scorched the very tree Xena and Gabrielle were hiding behind.

"By the gods, that was close!" Gabrielle breathed, stepping back to allow Xena to get away from the smoking bark.

Turning from the tree, sword in hand, Xena bowed her head, her lips brushing Gabrielle’s ear. "Your friend is heading this way. When she enters the wood, grab her and run. I’ll deal with Callisto."

The bard clutched at Xena’s arms. "You can’t do that! Callisto’s a god! She’ll kill you too!"

One corner of the Conqueror’s mouth lifted in a wry smile. "Didn’t seem to stop you from wanting to do the very same thing a moment ago, did it."

Gabrielle scowled. "That’s different."

"We’ll discuss that later. Just do as I say."

"That’s not different," Gabrielle grumbled half under her breath as she pulled away from Xena. "Fine. Do you have any general direction in mind?"

Alcmene stumbled into the wood. Grabbing the nearly spent woman, the Conqueror thrust her into Gabrielle’s arms. "Just go!"

The bard clamped a hand over Alcmene’s mouth before the other woman had a chance to scream. "We’re here to help. I know you’re tired, but you need to run with me as fast as you can. We’ll get you to safety, I promise."

Alcmene’s eyes were wide with panic, but after a moment, she nodded.

Removing her hand from Alcmene’s mouth, Gabrielle smiled, and grabbed the other woman’s hand. "Great. Let’s go."

Xena waited until Gabrielle had left the wood, their guest in hand, then turned and stepped deliberately around the tree trunk and out into the brilliant sunshine. "Hello, Callisto," she purred, her sword tip resting against one broad shoulder.

The blonde goddess pulled up short, her dark eyes wide with shock. "Xena! Not that it isn’t a pleasant surprise, but what are you doing here?"

The Conqueror smiled. "I could ask you the same question, Callisto."

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that." Peering around Xena’s shoulder, she looked into the darkness of the wooded glen. "Where’s your beloved little bard brat? Somewhere safe, I trust?" Callisto smiled mockingly, tilting her head to one side. "I know how tethered through the nose she has you, poor dear."

Xena filed the apparent non-sequitor away for future reference and leveled the point of her sword at the hollow of Callisto’s neck.

Reaching up with disdain, Callisto merely flicked the blade away. "Oh, please. Surely you haven’t forgotten your little ambrosial gift to me already, have you, Xena? You can’t possibly think you could hurt me with that thing. Be a dear and put it away before someone gets hurt, won’t you?"

Xena’s mind was awash with confusion, knowing full well that she had never even seen ambrosia, and if she had, Callisto would be the last person to receive such a gift from her. Determined not to let that confusion show, she flipped the sword back to the blonde’s neck. "I thought, perhaps, a little sparring? For old times’ sake?"

Grinning, Callisto stepped back and withdrew her own sword. "Oh, why not. I never could resist a challenge, Xena. Especially not one from you. You always did bring out the worst in me."

She danced forward and their blades met, a waterfall of sparks raining down to skitter across the ground. They broke apart, then engaged again, their faces almost touching as their hilts locked and brute strength came into play.

The Conqueror was a bit taken aback when Callisto’s ambrosia-imbued strength matched hers, measure for measure, but she kept her grip locked tight against her adversary, determined not to yield.

Callisto giggled. "Oh Xena," she purred, licking her lips, "if I had known this was the way to get you grunting and straining, I would have stolen some ambrosia years ago!"

Shaking her head, Xena relaxed the slightest bit, and when Callisto responded, quickly broke the lock of their blades, dancing away from the goddess’ downstroke.

"Oh, very good, my sweet."

Xena trilled out her battle cry.

Callisto responded with a scream.

Soon the sounds of metal on metal overtook even wailing of the wind, which seemed to howl its approval of the combat taking place.

Xena ran toward Callisto, and, at the last second, flipped high above her head, forcing the goddess to turn and put her back to the trees. The Conqueror landed solidly, knees flexed, her blade ready to engage the enemy.

Grinning, Callisto waggled a finger in Xena’s direction. "As much as I’ve relished this little dance, my dear, I’ve allowed you to delay me long enough. I simply must dash. Business first, and all that." She pouted. "You’d think you could at least be happy for me, Xena. After all, I’m doing this for you."

"Oh you are, are you?"

"But of course, my darling! Without Hercules meddling in your affairs, all this will be yours!" She grinned. "And you’ll have me to thank for it." Dark eyes narrowed in challenge. "And what does your precious little Gabrielle have that could even begin to compete with that, hmm? All she offers is that scrawny little body of hers. While I, dear Xena, I offer you the world!"

While Callisto’s assertions weren’t making very much sense to a puzzled Conqueror, her words did serve to, at least in part, confirm some of the unbelievable stories Gabrielle had been telling her. Xena wondered anew if perhaps she hadn’t been right in her first assumption, that the two women were somehow in collusion with one another, working in tandem to instill some form of madness into her which would cause her downfall.

Shaking her head, she fought to regain her focus as Callisto stared at her, grinning wildly.

"So. Do I get a ‘thank you’ kiss?"

"Dream on, Callisto."

"I thought as much." The goddess flicked a bored finger, smirking as a bolt of blue light shot from it. "Just a little something to remember me by, darling."

Xena just managed to bring her sword up in time to deflect the blow. With blind luck, the Conqueror’s weapon sent the bolt back to its originator, blowing Callisto off her feet and knocking her into the very tree she had scorched earlier. The goddess slumped to the ground, unconscious, her leather smoking around the charred hole that was already starting to heal near her navel.

With steps borne of caution, Xena made her way to Callisto, prodding the fallen woman with the tip of her boot. When there was no reaction, Xena raised an eyebrow. "I’m gonna to have to remember that little trick."

Toeing Callisto once more for good measure, and nodding in satisfaction, Xena sheathed her sword and set off into the woods, keen eyes already scanning the leaf-strewn ground for signs of the two fleeing women.

***

When Alcmene stumbled for the third time in as many minutes, Gabrielle pulled the winded woman to a stop, looking at her with concern. "Are you alright?"

Alcmene leaned over, hands on her knees, trying desperately to get some air back into her straining lungs. "I think so. Just give me a minute to get my breath back." A bolt of pain shot through her middle. "Ow!"

"What is it? Are you alright?"

The pain receded. Then came again, doubled in its intensity. "I’m - ow! Not sure. I think the baby’s wanting out."

Gabrielle spun Alcmene around. "Are you sure?!"

"Well, I’ve never had a baby before, but that’s sure what it feels like."

The bard ran a hand through her hair. "Ok, ok. Um...we’ll just have to find a place for you to rest."

"That sounds—by the gods this kid has a tough kick!—really great right about now."

Nodding, the bard looked around. In the desperate flight, she’d led them down from the meadow and into a more rocky area bisected by a long ravine whose rocky walls towered menacingly over their heads. A narrow entrance was just visible to her, and she pointed, directing Alcmene’s gaze that way. "I doubt it’ll be very comfortable in there, but at least we’ll be out of the wind."

Gathering up her tattered skirt, Alcmene started forward. "What are we waiting for then? Let’s go!"

Shaking her head in bemusement, the bard broke into a quick trot so as to not be left behind.

***

"There," Gabrielle said, lowering Alcmene behind a natural rock barrier which would protect her from the bright sun shining down from overhead, its heat magnified within the natural bowl-effect of the ravine. "It’s not exactly a luxury suite in Athens’ best Inn, but it’s the best we’re gonna get on short notice."

Alcmene smiled, and the bard could readily see the woman’s soon-to-be son in the open expression. "It’s a grand place, um...I’m afraid I don’t know your name."

"It’s Gabrielle," the younger woman replied, reaching down to clasp Alcmene’s hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"Not half as pleased as I am," Alcmene replied, returning the clasp. "I was sure my baby would never see life with that woman chasing after me. Do you have any idea who she was?"

"Her name is Callisto. Not a very nice person."

Alcmene laughed. "You can say that again. Those things she did...is she a god? Why does she want to hurt me? I’m sure I haven’t done anything to offend her. I’ve never seen her before today."

"It’s not you. Not really. It’s her. She’s a very angry, very bitter woman."

"Well, your friend is very brave, staying behind like that to fight her so that I could get away. I hope she can find us. I’d like to thank her."

"She’ll be here." I hope. Oh, Xena, please be careful.

"You have a lot of faith in her."

"She’s worth it."

Alcmene nodded at the conviction in her young savior’s voice, then gasped as she felt something decidedly strange. "Gabrielle?"

Turning her head from the entrance, the bard noted the unusual expression on the other woman’s face. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"I - I, um, think my water just broke."

Gabrielle squatted quickly. "Please tell me you’re kidding."

"Well, unless a spring suddenly opened up underneath me, I’m not kidding."

"Oh, boy."

Suddenly, a slight shuffle was heard from the entrance to the ravine. Gabrielle jumped to her feet. "Xena!" she cried out in relief.

The Conqueror nodded, eyeing the place the Amazon had chosen, impressed despite herself.

"Go to your friend, Gabrielle. I’ll be ok here."

The bard bent down, placing a warm hand on Alcmene’s arm. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. The pain seems to have disappeared for the moment, and I think it’s best if I just tried to relax. The worst is yet to come, right?"

Smiling in empathy, Gabrielle gently squeezed Alcmene’s arm, and when the young woman nodded, rose back to her feet and stepped around the rock shelter, walking to meet Xena halfway between the shelter and the entrance.

"Interesting choice," the Conqueror commented.

"Well, I figured it was easily defensible." Hand to the back of her neck, Gabrielle looked around. "Or it would be, if Callisto wasn’t a god." She gazed back at Xena. "Speaking of which, where is she?"

"Taken care of. For now. And the woman?"

"Safe."

"For now."

Gabrielle tensed at the warning tone in Xena’s voice. "What do you mean?"

"Callisto told me some interesting things while we were engaged."

"Interesting, huh?"

"Very interesting."

"Would you mind sharing?"

Xena’s face hardened. "That would be a job better left to you, Amazon. What, exactly, happened when your ‘Warrior Princess’ met Hercules."

"Well, you - she - Xena joined forces with Hercules and Iolaus to defeat Darfus’ attack against a nearby village. Xena killed Darfus, but Ares raised him from the dead and made him more powerful than before."

"But they managed to kill him again."

"Exactly."

Xena nodded. "And then?"

Gabrielle looked at the dirt under her feet. "Well, you - she - was always pretty quiet about what happened after, but she did say that he unchained her heart." She looked up again, her eyes blazing, intense. "Xena, Hercules made you see that you didn’t need to walk in the darkness any longer. He showed you that it was okay to be good; to help others instead of hurting them. You thanked him and left to make your own path in this world. A path of goodness. You call it ‘The Greater Good’."

"That Xena never existed, Amazon. Except in your fevered imagination."

"You’re wrong, Xena. That person does exist." She lifted her hand, placing her fingers on the warm flesh of the Conqueror’s chest. "Right here. In your heart. All you have to do is let her out."

Teeth bared, Xena grabbed Gabrielle’s wrist in a harsh grip and pulled the younger woman’s hand away. "It appears Ares was right."

Gabrielle refused to let the pain show. "About what?"

"You are my enemy. Because if what you say is true, and this Hercules is allowed to be born, I will lose my throne. I’ll lose everything I’ve spent my life fighting to gain."

"Xena, it’s not like that..."

"Who rules Greece in your reality, Amazon?"

"Well, no one, but..."

"Exactly. You’ve come to take Greece from me." Flinging Gabrielle away, Xena reached down and removed a dagger from her boot. "That’s not going to happen."

Gabrielle jumped back to her feet, watching in horror as the Conqueror moved unerringly toward Alcmene’s resting place, her knife hand swinging with every step she took.

Looking around desperately, the bard stooped down and grabbed a rock that fit comfortably in her hand. Straightening and drawing back her arm, she prayed to Artemis for true aim, and let fly the rock, watching as it sped toward its intended target.

Who turned at the last possible second, and caught the rock with her free hand, her angry strength crushing it to dust as she stared at Gabrielle with murderous intent. After a moment, however, Xena opened her hand, let the dust fall to the ground, and turned back toward her primary goal.

"Xena! Don’t!!"

Then came a bolt of blue fire which hit the target Gabrielle missed, sending the knife spinning away to shatter against one of the ravine’s rocky walls. With the bolt came an enraged scream which echoed off the walls and caused both women to stop and turn toward the source of the sound.

"Isn’t that just like you, Xe-na. Kicking a woman when she’s down, then walking away without a second glance." Callisto grinned. "You honestly didn’t think I was going to let you get away with that little slight to me, did you?"

The Conqueror stood ramrod straight and said nothing, her empty hands clenching and unclenching with the effort to contain her anger.

Callisto turned her head slightly. "Well hello, Gabrielle! I just knew you had to be around here somewhere, sniffing up Xena’s skirts. I believe you’re holding something of mine?"

"Forget it, Callisto," the bard snarled.

"Wish I could, dear. But the truth is, I can never forget the look on my mother’s face as her dress caught on fire and took the rest of her with it. Every time I close my eyes, I can hear her screaming. Begging for someone to help her." The goddess rubbed her chin with the back of her hand as her eyes gained their focus once again. "So be a dear and bring me Zeus’ little whore, would you?"

"You’ll have to go through me first, Callisto," Gabrielle warned.

The goddess beamed. "I was hoping you’d say that!"

A lick of fire shot from Callisto’s fingertip, but the bard was prepared and dropped to the ground, rolling to avoid the blow.

Missing its target, the bolt struck the rock shelter, and Alcmene screamed as the boulders exploded, littering her body with jagged pieces of debris.

Stopping her desperate roll, Gabrielle reversed direction and dove behind the shelter, covering the cowering woman’s body with her own as the air continued to rain rocks down over her.

Callisto’s laughter echoed again as she turned her head. "And here’s a little something to pay you back for being such a naughty girl, Xena."

Another bolt flew.

The Conqueror just managed to deflect it with the chakram that appeared in her hand.

Blue fire flicked again, and Xena deflected the bolt back to its owner, only to have Callisto dart out of the way. "Oh, Xena. You didn’t think I’d fall for the same trick twice, did you?"

Xena shrugged minutely. "It was worth a shot."

"True. It’s good to know some things never change, my darling. Always striving for the upper hand. Even in hopeless situations, like this one."

Both women released their weapons at the same time. Xena’s chakram impacted directly with Callisto’s energy bolt, and both combatants ducked as their own weapons ricocheted back on a direct path toward their heads.

The chakram hit the closest wall, showering sparks and loosening some small stones to roll to the floor below, before rebounding and heading back to its owner.

Callisto’s bolt hit the wall very near the entrance to the ravine, exploding the rockface and making the entire wall rumble threateningly.

Behind the much reduced rock shelter, Alcmene pushed Gabrielle off of her. "The baby’s coming!" she screamed, clawing at her hair in pain. "The baby’s coming!"

As Gabrielle scrambled over to try and help, Callisto laughed. "Did you hear that, Xena? Your destiny is being birthed before your very eyes. How many people can say that?" She grinned, raising her arms. "Last chance, Xena. You know what Hercules will do if he’s allowed to be born. Let me kill him, and the world will be yours!"

"And have to live knowing I’m beholden to you for my crown? Not a chance, Callisto."

The goddess shrugged. "Have it your way, then. I’ll just have to rule it without you."

She clenched her right hand tightly, then opened it to show a glowing, white ball which crackled, sending out fat sparks. "Goodbye, dear Xena. I wish I could say it’s been fun, but it hasn’t. Remember me fondly to Hades when you see him, won’t you?"

Thrusting out her hand, Callisto threw the energy ball.

Xena held her chakram in front of her, and when the blow hit, the power of it blew her off her feet, the chakram slipping from her hand as she flew the length of the ravine. She collided with the far wall and slumped to the ground, barely conscious.

"And now, for my prize. Come out, come out wherever you are, Alcmene. Time to face the music, my dear."

Gabrielle squatted next to the laboring woman, paralyzed with indecision. She desperately wanted to go to Xena, who lay unmoving against the ravine wall, blood streaming down her face, her eyes dazed and glassy.

Her absolute devotion to the greater good, however, stayed her steps, and as Callisto came closer, she rose to her feet and grabbed the chakram which had landed on what remained of the rock wall sheltering Alcmene. Her face was stony; her eyes, chips of jade shining with determination.

Callisto stopped, and smiled. "Well, well, well, if it isn’t brave little Gabrielle making a stand against the big, bad goddess." She cocked her head. "Put Xena’s toy away before you hurt yourself with it, hmmm?"

"You won’t win, Callisto."

"And just how do you intend on stopping me, dear?"

Behind her, Alcmene screamed in agony and Gabrielle turned, watching as the tendons in the woman’s neck stood out with the force of her pushing.

The bard turned back. "I’ll give up my life to see that Hercules has a chance to be born."

Callisto nodded. "And that’s exactly what I’ll take from you." She held out an arm, then dropped it suddenly, a slow smile blooming over her face. "No, killing you this way would be too easy." Reaching back, she pulled her sword and twirled it once. "I think I’d rather do this the old fashioned way. And this way, you and your dear dead husband can bear matching death wounds."

With a piercing shriek, Callisto attacked. Gabrielle defended herself, using the chakram to ward off the sword strikes that seemed to be coming from all directions at once.

Her arm burned in agony as the tip of Callisto’s sword traced a line across her flesh and, Alcmene’s pain filled cries pushing her on, the bard redoubled her efforts, deflecting stroke after stroke as she looked for a way to penetrate the goddess’ own defenses.

"Gabrielle! Help me! Please!" Alcmene wailed as her insides turned to flame with the strength of her contractions.

Gabrielle was weakening, and she knew it. Her heart was torn in too many directions and Callisto’s ambrosia-induced strength was becoming overwhelming. Gritting her teeth, her muscles bulging and straining with effort, she continued to deflect the blows until a lucky shot knocked the chakram from her hand.

"Game over, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle stood, chin lifted, staring Callisto straight in the eye as the goddess raised her sword for the final blow.

And then, with an almost mystic sense she’d developed over the years, she dropped flat to the ground as an airborne body flew directly over her and slammed, boots first, into Callisto’s stomach, sending the other woman flying across the ravine and to her own meeting with a rocky wall.

Xena landed, stooped, and grabbed her chakram, which she then flung at the barrier which had already been weakened by its meeting with Callisto’s bolt.

Thunder rumbled through the narrow ravine as the wall began to collapse, sending huge boulders toppling toward the ground at immense speeds.

Looking up, Callisto screamed.

Catching her weapon, Xena turned and pulled Gabrielle up from the ground. "Run!" she shouted to be heard over the din of the approaching rockslide.

"Not without Alcmene!"

"Run!" The Conqueror shouted again, giving the bard a healthy shove in the right direction.

The boulders began to close in, and Xena ran behind Gabrielle, who stopped, and turned. "You can’t just leave her there, Xena. She’s an innocent woman. Please. You have to help her."

Shoving Gabrielle once again, the Conqueror darted to her right, bent low, and scooped Alcmene up in her strong arms. The laboring woman squirmed in her arms, almost causing Xena to lose her balance and fall victim to the oncoming rocks. "Stay still, or I’ll kill you myself."

The threat was an empty one, however, as Xena regained her balance and just managed to step out of the path of destruction.

Like a flooded river, the boulders continued past, rumbling across the ravine floor until they met the far wall, where they crashed, were shattered, and lay still.

Then all was quiet, save for the dust that fell like rain, and the sounds of Alcmene’s urgent panting.

"Bring her over here!" Gabrielle pointed to a relatively level space of ground.

Xena walked her burden over to the area indicated, and laid her on the ground, before quickly turning away and scanning the area for Callisto’s presence.

Gabrielle quickly went to her knees, clasping Alcmene’s hand and wincing at the strength of the other woman’s ferocious grip.

"Oh gods...it’s coming...please...please...help me."

"Alright," the bard crooned, "it’s alright. Here, open your legs and let me see, ok?" Kneeling in between Alcmene’s cocked legs, she saw the head beginning to crown. "You’re doing great, Alcmene. I can just see the head. You’re doing fine."

"Can I push?"

"Yes. Give it all you’ve got. A great big push. Now."

As Alcmene bore down with all her might, Gabrielle slipped her hands under the head as it came forward, quickly followed by the rest of the body.

Alcmene screamed out her relief and Gabrielle laughed, holding the squirming infant in her hands. "It’s a boy!"

"Is he...is he alright?"

Confirmation was heard in the form of a loud, indignant wail.

"Oh, thank the gods."

At the sound of the infant’s cry, the Conqueror spun, staring down at the tiny, squalling body in Gabrielle’s hands. Her hand slowly went to her chakram and she took it from its hook on her leathers, her intense gaze focused on nothing but the child. The child who would take away everything that she was, everything she’d fought for, everything she’d gained. The sounds, scents and sights of many a bloody battle raced behind her eyes, her body responding to war’s seductive call.

The baby wailed again, shaking his fists, and Xena blinked, coming back into herself. He looked up at her with large, unblinking eyes as she remembered other times, other infants. The one she saved, causing her to walk the Gauntlet of her own army’s men. Her own son, Solon, placed in the strong, capable arms of the Centaurs as the son of their hero, Borias; only to be killed by the Amazons in their war with the Centaurs; a war that only ended with Velasca’s death and the decimation of the Amazons as a race.

She’d never allowed herself to mourn the loss of so tiny and so precious a life, knowing that to do so would only distract her from her ultimate focus: the conquest of Greece.

She allowed her gaze to move from infant to mother. Alcmene stared at her, her expression unsettled. Why should I allow your son to live when I let mine die without even a tear to mark his passing? Does the child of Zeus deserve more of a right to live than the child of a monster?

The Conqueror looked back at the tiny innocent held so tenderly in the arms of his deliverer. Will you be my ending? Or truly my beginning? If I lose all that I am, what is there to be gained?

She fingered the chakram absently, callused thumb playing over the razor-sharp edge, wondering why such a simple decision had become suddenly so hard.

Gabrielle eyed the Conqueror warily, unable to read the display of emotions in the chiseled face. "Xena?"

Xena slowly raised her gaze to meet deep green eyes looking calmly back at her. So many emotions in those beautiful eyes. So many. What do you see when you look at me, Amazon? Do you see the person I am? Or do you see the person you think I could become.

"Who are you?" she asked finally. And, more importantly, who am I?

"I’m Gabrielle. A woman who loves you."

"You...you love me?"

Nothing but absolute devotion shone from Gabrielle’s face. "Yes. And I always will."

"The greatest weakness."

Gabrielle shook her head. "No. The greatest strength Your greatest strength."

The Conqueror shook her head once, as if to negate the words, and, raising her weapon, stepped forward, her jaw tightly clenched, teeth gleaming white in the dusty air.

With a groan of pain, she brought the chakram down.

And severed the cord still tethering the infant to his mother.

Reaching down, she ripped a piece of fabric from Alcmene’s tattered skirt and quickly tied off the stump of the cord before stepping back once again, powerful emotions finally freed from the prison where she’d kept them locked tightly for so many dark and dangerous years.

The emotions overwhelmed her and brought the mighty Conqueror to her knees, her chakram falling from her hand to land on the dusty ground.

Gabrielle quickly handed Hercules off to his mother, then rushed to kneel before her soulmate. "Xena?" she asked again, quietly.

Xena’s head slowly lifted. In her eyes, a lost, broken soul cried out for comfort, and this Gabrielle gave without reservation, pulling Xena into a tight embrace and resting the taller woman’s head on her shoulder. "I’m here, Xena. I’ll always be here. Always."

After a moment, Xena pulled away. The smile she mustered was tiny, but it managed to reach her tear-sparkling eyes. "Thank you, Gabrielle," she whispered hoarsely.

The bard sobbed at the sound of her name, and reached up, gently guiding Xena’s lips to hers in a kiss of absolution, of devotion, of deep and utter love.

And the world went black once again.

***

When Gabrielle regained consciousness, it was to the sensation of warm, soft lips still pressing against her own. Lips whose taste was finer than the best Grecian wine, attached to a face that was more beautiful than any Olympian goddess, and a body that was just as stunning, and just as...naked?

The bard kept her eyes tightly shut, her hands continuing their unknowing trek down Xena’s smooth-muscled back. Yup. Naked.

Large hands roaming with sensual grace down her own body convinced Gabrielle that she was in a similar state of undress.

And laying on her back.

Partially covered by a thick, soft fur.

Her eyes popped open, huge with shock as her mind finally caught up to her raging hormones.

Loathe to break the passionate kiss, but helpless to do anything else, Gabrielle pushed Xena away and scrambled up from the bedroll, her entire body turning in circles as she scanned the wooded clearing she suddenly found herself in.

High above her head, birds twittered cheerfully, courting in the leafy canopy that sheltered the sun dappled grove. Off to her left, Argo threw her head and whinnied a cheerful, if grass-strewn, greeting her way. Behind her, a well-laid campfire burned its last, the fragrant smoke tickling her nostrils pleasantly.

She looked back down to see Xena, half on the bedroll, looking back up at her, an expression of tolerant amusement covering her face. "Was it something I said?" the low voice rumbled.

Gabrielle blushed a brilliant pink, and she shook her head, still unable to believe she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. "Um, no."

The warrior nodded slowly, her face creasing into a half smile. Gabrielle’s breath caught in her throat as the love shining from Xena’s so-pale eyes caused her heart to skip several beats.

Slowly lowering herself to her knees, Gabrielle reached out a shaking hand. Xena grasped the hand immediately, bringing it to her lips and brushing a gentle kiss against the bard’s palm. "Are you alright?" she murmured, using her free hand to tenderly cup Gabrielle’s cheek, trying to read the emotions flashing through the vibrant eyes.

"I’m...not sure. I think so. It’s just..." She took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "I love you, Xena."

The smile she received made her heart soar. "I love you too, Gabrielle."

"Say it again."

"I love you?"

"Well, that too. But I really meant my name. Say my name again?"

Xena’s eyebrow hid beneath her bangs, but she complied. "Gabrielle."

And suddenly found her arms full of warm, laughing, and crying bard. "By the gods, it’s good to be home!"

Xena allowed herself to be bowled over by her young lover, not understanding in the least what had just happened, but happy that, whatever it was, Gabrielle was warm, and safe, and whole in her arms.

As fervent lips melded to hers, the Warrior Princess stopped thinking of anything at all, and simply surrendered to the boundless love that enveloped her, heart and soul.

And somewhere, high above, the Fates continued their spinning, reweaving a world that had been torn asunder by hatred, and mended by the strongest force of all.

Love.

The End

#xena #xena warrior princess #xwp #femslash #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #mature #author: swordnquil

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enkelimagnus · 5 years

Text

The Last Fairy on Earth - Chap 2

Winx AU, Clizzy & Others

Chapter 2: Welcome to Magix

Read on AO3

Clary has found a new friend, Izzy, and together they will make lots of discoveries. Mysterious creatures threaten Izzy, the fairy of the Sun and Moon. She knows how to defend herself. But she should be thankful for Clary’s help. Could she be a fairy too? We’ll find out at Alfea, the school for fairies.

---------------

Clary and Izzy walked out of the forest and into a clear space that seemed to surround the walls of the castle. Around them, young women were appearing out of nowhere, their suitcases in hand. On the side, there was a tall metallic column, upon which a great M was inscribed. A bus seemed to be parked on the side of the column.

Clary didn’t know exactly how, but something about this place made her feel at peace, comfortable. It was familiar in a way. She had made the good choice by coming here, she thought to herself. At least she hoped so.

Izzy was still holding her hand, and she led her through the gates of the school, a large pink archway with two wing-like doors that seemed to be open wide for all students to walk in. The girls around them were beautiful and fashionable, Clary noticed. She also noticed it was mostly women that seemed to attend the school.

“Are there no guys?”

Izzy shrugged. “Fairy powers usually occur in women. We don’t really know why, but you’ll find there are only a few boys at the school, or as fairies, around the realms. Men with magic usually follow wizard studies, or paladin ones. That’s the traditional thing to do, I guess.” She explained.

Clary hummed. There was an interesting idea of gender roles going on in this realm. It was for sure interesting. She would ask around for more about that. For now, she focused on the luminous courtyard they had walked through.

It was beautiful, with comfortable-looking stone benches, a big fountain decorated with an art-deco metallic structure, and emerald-colored grass.

"This place is gorgeous," she whispered. The deep pine green of the forest bled out into the grass outside of the gate, but not this one. The only reason Kiko wasn’t already running after the butterflies that flew around the courtyard was because he was scared of the new surroundings, and stuck close to Clary’s side.

Izzy had let go of her hand and was looking at her with a smile. Clary wondered if she felt like that too, after walking into the castle. For some reason, Izzy seemed to be used to it.

Next to the fountain, a tall man with blonde hair and some interesting scars on his cheeks was going through a list. He was wearing dark teal blue dress pants and waistcoat over a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a couple of unbuttoned buttons. A young woman Clary’s age was standing in front of him, and looking very nervous.

"What is your name, young lady?" the man asked.

Clary turned to Izzy for a moment. “Who is that man?”

“That’s Hodge Starkweather, Head of Discipline,” Izzy explained with a shrug. “He looks like he doesn’t have a heart, but I think it’s in there somewhere.”

The young woman that was being interrogated by the Head of Discipline mumbled her name. "El... Eleanor of Delona. I... I sent my registration form a few..."

"Alright,” Starkweather cut in, “let’s see if your name appears on the list. Eleanor, Eleanor. Are you nervous, young lady?"

Clary realized what was happening immediately and turned to Izzy. “We’re going to have a problem. I’m not on the list. I didn’t register, I didn’t even know about this place until yesterday.” She could feel everything crumbling down around her. She’d left her home, she’d left everything and now she was going to get booted out of what she’d chosen to leave her life behind for.

She could feel some sort of panic attack arriving and she did not want to have one in front of everyone, in this place, where she was going to get rejected at anyway.

“Yes, you are on the list,” Izzy shrugged. “At least somehow. I have thought of everything, my dear. The Princess of Callisto was supposed to come here this year, but she changed her mind for some reason.” She pulled an envelope out of her pocket. It was a little crumpled already, and the light that came out of Izzy’s hand and started burning it ensured it wouldn’t be readable. “She gave me a letter to give to the Headmistress. I just won’t give it to her, that’s all. Anyway, no one here knows the Princess of Callisto, she’s never really left her realm. Her parents are some of the kind that inspire fairytales about imprisoned princesses."

Clary was a bit gobsmacked. She hadn’t been expecting this from Izzy, who seemed so regal and princess-like. Now she was expecting her to lie about her identity, take someone else’s name and spot, and not care about it.

"And you want me to take her place? Come on, Izzy, we’re being dishonest here."

Izzy shrugged again and looked at her. “It’s nothing. No one will care. Besides, it’s too late to turn back now. Do you want this, or not?”

Clary barely had time to say yes or no before she and Izzy were standing in front of Hodge Starkweather. He was taller than her for sure, with serious blue eyes. She couldn’t help but stare at the crescent-shaped scars on his cheekbones for a second.

“Good morning, Mr. Starkweather," Izzy said with a sunny smile.

The man raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "Well, if it isn’t Princess Isabelle of Solaria,” he said in a tired and sarcastic tone. Clary was starting to believe that, at school, Izzy was much wilder than when she was in full princess mode. “I never thought I’d see you back here. After what happened last year, I’m surprised you’ve chosen to grace us with your presence... once again."

Clary’s gut feeling was right.

Izzy shrugged nonchalantly. "I don’t give up that easily you know."

The man almost rolled his eyes at her before turning back to Clary. "Right and who’s your friend?" Clary swallowed and stared back at him, trying to stay as calm as she could and not let transpire that she wasn’t supposed to be there.

"The Princess of Callisto,” Izzy introduced.

Hodge Starkweather looked through the list. "The Princess of Callisto? Hmmm…” For a few excruciatingly long seconds, he seemed to struggle with finding her name. “Ah! Varanda Callisto." He finally exclaimed.

"Yeah, that’s me."

Starkweather nodded and checked something on the list. "You two may come through. Next!"

Clary carefully kept herself from running towards the other accepted fairies. She needed to play it cool. Somehow, she already felt like it wasn’t going to last for very long. She wasn’t good at lying, and she wasn’t comfortable with what she’d just done. When they realized she was a fraud, they would expel her, and then she would have nowhere to go.

“So… what happened last year?" Clary asked curiously.

Izzy had a bit of a guilty look on her face before she shook her head and waved her hand around, dismissing the question. "Ugh! It was nothing, Mr. Starkweather loves to dramatize."

As they walked towards a small gathering of students, Izzy left her for a moment and went to say hi to a few people she knew. She was back soon and they chatted, waiting for… something? Clary wasn’t sure what but she was following Izzy’s direction, since she seemed to be doubling this year.

After a moment, Hodge Starkweather cleared his throat and gathered everyone in a group in front of the entrance. Clary quickly looked around her and counted everyone that was there. They were 36, and she was guessing they were all first years.

"This school will be your home for at least the next three years,” Starkweather started, standing tall with his hands behind his back. “But it doesn’t mean that you get to do everything you want. I trust that you were all educated with some sort of discipline and sense of restriction, and things will not be different here. The rules of this institution are based on discipline. Disregard these rules and I’ll personally escort you to the front gate.”

The threat resounded in the silent courtyard and Clary could feel herself falter a little. She was lying about her identity, for sure this would cost her her spot here the second they realized what was going on. She sent Izzy a look, and the dark-haired fairy winked at her in reply. Clary didn’t know if she was reassured by that.

Starkweather continued. “This is not a magician’s school. You’re not here to learn hocus-pocus. We expect our future Guardian Fairies to be responsible and mature. Consequently, you may not use your powers in the hallways or other common areas. In fact, the only place you may display your powers is in your classroom under teacher supervision,” he explained. He then turned to Izzy and gave her a pointed look. “Is that clear, Princess Isabelle? Thanks to you and your antics, the Potion laboratory will not be accessible until the next month at the earliest. Now, I think you know what not to do, if you wish to stay.”

Clary looked at her friend. Izzy was a bit flushed, seemingly from embarrassment at being put on the spot this way. So it really seemed like Izzy was much wilder and likely to cause trouble than she had looked like before. Clary found that she liked that.

"You did that?" Clary asked, whispering.

Izzy shrugged, but it was obvious she was trying to disguise her guilt and shame under a careless and tough attitude. "So? My father paid for all the damages."

Clary opened her mouth to reply to her but there was a clearing of throat. "Sorry, I’m late, I hope you’ll excuse me."

A group of four people were walking towards them. At the head of it, the woman who had spoken was radiating wisdom and confidence. She was Black, her hair styled in an afro, and she looked powerful. With her was a dark-haired woman with glasses and a beautiful up-do, a tall man with horns, and a silver-and-black haired man using a cane to walk.

“Students,” Hodge Starkweather called out. “Here comes Dean Cleophas Graymark and your professors. Attention!”

The black woman chuckled. “ I hope Mr. Starkweater hasn’t frighten you too much,” she said in a gentle voice. “Welcome to Alfea! The best fairy college in the whole of Magix. Well, it’s also the only one.”

Clary had a small chuckle at that. She liked Ms Graymark.

“Come on in, everyone,” the Dean called, as she started walking up the stairs towards the great doors of the college.

They walked through tall emerald doors into the warm, candlelit entrance hall. Across from the door that they’d come through was a great flight of stairs, leading to the first floor. On the wall, where the staircase divided in two, was a great window with a decorative colored glass design. The design represented a fairy, standing tall, hovering over the ground. On the sides of the stairs and behind it were alcoves, with additional doorways leading into corridors. Clary looked around curiously. No matter how dark the corner were, they did not scare her. She felt safe there. She felt at home.

“And so we begin our orientation session,” Ms Graymark explained, looking around the room at the small crowd. “by the end of which, we should all know each other better. Becoming a fairy is hard work, but I know everyone here can do it. Keep in mind that the teachers and I are always here to help you.” She seemed to exchange a look with Hodge Starkweather before starting again. “Feel free to explore your surroundings, you have no class today.”

Izzy leaned towards Clary and whispered. “Now she’s gonna say “However, you would be smart to stay away from the Witches of Cloud Tower. Listen!”

Just as Izzy finished talking, Ms Graymark took a more serious air and said in a more firm tone. “However, you would be smart to stay away from the Witches of Cloud Tower!”

Izzy made a little ‘yes’ and punched the air in satisfaction. Clary chuckled at that.

Starkweather glared at them before calling to everyone. "Alright, speeches are over, everyone’s dismissed, you’re free ’til dinner time."

Ms Graymark nodded. "Good luck, everybody, I’ll see you all tomorrow. Oh... and classes start at 8 o’ clock sharp. Do be punctual."

Clary didn’t really have time to think before Izzy had grabbed her hand and was pulling her up the stairs. Kiko ran after them quickly. They turned into a corridor, with high rib-vaulted ceilings. Again, the warmth of the light that came through the window was comforting to Clary. She didn’t know if it was the magic or something else.

"You’ll like Dean Graymark,” Izzy smiled. “She always says the same thing, but she’s really nice."

"Who are the witches of Cloud Tower?" Clary asked curiously. She hadn’t heard anything about them for now. This world held many more secrets than expected.

"Magix has three major schools,” Izzy explained. “Alfea is one. There’s the Red Fountain, school of Specialists, that’s where the guys that saved our asses go. Finally, there’s the witches’ school of Cloud Tower."

“What’s the difference between a witch and a fairy? Are we really enemies?”

“They use dark magic, while we use light magic. It’s not really a big difference, and in essence, we’re basically the same, but they are vessels of darkness, and usually, they have less than pleasant intentions. Witches or fairies… we’re all there to preserve magical balance in the universe. We wouldn’t want them gone.”

Kiko was running a bit ahead of them, sniffing about the corridor. He was getting braver in his explorations.

They started walking past rooms with names written on a list, pinned to the doors. Izzy quickly checked every one of them, and Clary just followed her. She knew what was happening. She knew what this place was about and where to go and Clary desperately needed that right now.

They stopped further into the corridor. Izzy grinned, pointing at the list. "Hey look! We’re in the same apartment!”

Clary blinked at the list. “Isabelle of Solaria, Helen, Varanda of Callisto, Lydia, Aline, and Maia of Andros,” she read out. “Why do some only have first names?”

“Because they’re not royals,” Izzy shrugged and pushed the door open, walking into the room. The main room was square, with five doors and a little living area, complete with a computer desk, a table and a small kitchen. “That’s my room over there, the same one I had last year,” Izzy explained and pushed the double door open.

The bedroom was big, with a giant closet taking over a wall, and a big, circular bed with delicate see-through curtains. Light was streaming in from a big window with a balcony.

"You’ve got a room all to yourself?” Clary exclaimed. She looked back at one of the other doors, on which there was a sign reading ‘Helen, Varanda of Callisto’. She sighed. She was not going to be able to have even a small moment of intimacy to keep her cover intact. “ I’ve got a roommate.”

Izzy frowned. “That’s strange. Varanda is a royal, so she should have a solo room too,” she thought.

Clary huffed. “Didn’t you say her parents were weird?”

“Right. They wouldn’t have wanted her to be alone in a room.”

Clary crossed the common living area again and pushed open the door of her room. She stepped inside, closing the door behind herself. As she shifted to let Kiko walk next to her, she felt something under the sole of her shoe.

A loud cry of pain resounded in the room, and it sounded so human that Clary opened wide confused and sorry eyes. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, turning to see who she had hurt.

Instead of a person, there was a potted plant. A quite ugly potted plant, that seemed to be muttering something in a strangely human voice.

“No, no, excuse me,” someone said, and Clary turned around again, hoping that this time, she would be faced with a human person. Well, at least fairy person. She sighed in relief as she was greeted by the sight of a young blonde-haired woman. “I just got here and well, I left my things all over the floor,” she said in an apologetic tone. “This is a talking plant, one of my creations. My name is Helen.”

Helen wore a green maxi dress with a floral pattern and some simple cord sandals. She looked sweet and elegant and Clary somewhat felt guilty for not only stepping on her plant but being so annoyed about having a roommate.

"Uh, my name’s Clary,” she said without thinking.

Behind her, Izzy cleared her throat loudly. “Clary?”

Fuck. She was so bad at this. Clary looked around with a bit of a nervous smile and shook her head. "I mean, yes, Clary is a name I like a lot, but it’s not my name. In fact, my real name is... Varanda of, uh, Callisto. Yeah, that’s it." She sounded absolutely hesitant, and she wouldn’t have faulted Helen for finding her weird.

"Callisto?” An unknown voice said. “Fourth world of magic realm’s upper ring. Wow! That’s quite a ways away.”

A young woman around their age stepped in the room as well. She had a short purple haircut with some dirty blonde roots, and wore lavender and yellow sweatpants. That was unusual. Well, everything about this world was unusual, to Clary.

“Hi,” the purple-haired woman said. “I’m Lydia."

Izzy took on a bright smile and turned to her. “Isabelle.”

"Hey, I’ve heard about you,” Lydia said with wide eyes.

"Me too,” came a voice from outside the room. An Asian woman with short black hair in pigtails looked at them, walking through the door. “By the way, before you blow up your room, give us time to duck and cover, okay?" She joked.

Izzy huffed, growing red again. "Oh, it was just an accident, if you really want to know."

Lydia raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "An accident that got you expelled? How did you manage to get readmitted?" Her tone was somewhat curious, but she seemed to be having trouble with emoting more than that.

Izzy had a small chuckle. "Well, the truth is they couldn’t do without someone as gorgeous as me,” she joked. Clary chuckled. Izzy seemed to be quite uncomfortable discussing the events of the past year. Clary guessed she would be too, had she been in her shoes.

There was a sudden loud yelp and Clary turned around. The plant that she’d stepped on earlier was now holding Kiko by the leg, and the poor dog was screaming in fear.

"Bad plant!” Helen scolded. “Put him down right away!"

Clary shook her head, looking at her dog. She knew Kiko well enough to know there was probably more to the story than just a facetious plant. "No, Helen. Don’t scold your plant. Kiko probably tried to eat it. It was just trying to defend itself." She said as she noticed some green around Kiko’s mouth.

"Speaking of food,” Izzy said, stretching her arms up. “What do you say we eat out tonight? It’ll be our way of celebrating the new school year."

"Great idea,” Helen smiled. “That will give us a chance to get to know one another!”

“I heard something about food?” Another voice resounded and another girl walked into the room. She was black, with curly hair and a sweet smile. Her eyes were a gorgeous dark brown shade. She wore a black crop top and some oversized cargo pants, with chunky sneakers. Around her neck was a fancy necklace, and Clary guessed it was probably crown jewels, like Izzy’s necklace.

“You must be Maia of Andros,” Izzy grinned. “So nice to have another royal here!”

“Isn’t Varanda a royal?” Lydia asked with a frown.

Clary mumbled. “Oh yeah, but Izzy and I have known each other for so long, it’s almost like we’re family.” She immediately went back to the food to deflect the attention onto something else. "Anyone for pizza?"

"What’s "pizza"?" The dark-haired Asian girl asked. Clary hadn’t managed to catch her name.

She’d thought that pizza was going to be an easy way to get everyone to agree but she guessed there wasn’t any pizza here. That was a very sad world, if there was no pizza. Clary briefly wondered if she could get her parents to send her pepperoni pizza regularly in packages so she could survive the year.

"Yeah, what is it?" Helen asked.

Clary struggled to find an answer to that. "It’s the national dish of Callisto... More or less."

------------------------

As they all walked out of the rooms, carrying their purses, the girls didn’t realize they were being watched.

Hodge Starkweather stood in the shadows, following them from their room to the courtyard. He knew something was up with these girls, especially Varanda of Callisto. She didn’t look like Hodge’s memory of Varanda, and she didn’t even look very much like the King and Queen of Callisto.

That and her nervous behavior told him something was afoot.

He let them go, watching as they walked out of the castle and waited for the bus to Magix to get to the stop.

-------------------

The bus ride was entirely smooth. Clary didn’t remember the last time that she’d been in a bus that wasn’t bumping along the ride. She was actually convinced that it was impossible for a bus to drive smoothly.

The bus came to a halt and a little jingle resounded from speakers. Following it, a voice that was almost too naturally human announced the name of the stop.

"Magix station! Last stop, please transfer here!"

Izzy nudged Clary and she got up from her seat. The six young women walked out of the bus and out onto the sidewalk of one of the busiest streets of Magix City.

Clary looked around. The cars had no wheels and hovered above ground instead of rolling on roads, but that was probably the strangest thing that there was about this place. It looked a bit futuristic compared to Gardenia, rounded and smooth buildings in gravity defying shapes but it wasn’t what Clary had expected.

She didn’t know what she had expected, really. Maybe something more fantasy-like. Here, it all looked more scifi than fantasy, and she guessed she’d wanted to see that side of the fairy realm she’d dreamt up. Horses and flowers everywhere and a sense of atemporal awe.

"You look disappointed,” Izzy said softly, looking at her.

“I guess so,” Clary sighed. “It’s different from what I thought it would be. You know… Magix City, Capital of the realm of Magix, most enchanted city in the universe?"

"Well, what did you think it would be like?" Izzy asked curiously.

"I don’t know. Dragons, gnomes, wizards, shops full of magic wands..."

The dark-haired woman couldn’t help but laugh. “Dragons, gnomes and wizards exist. But they aren’t exactly the same as story book ones. Dragons are wild, except for the ones kept at the Red Fountain. Gnomes are usually in forests, and wizards well… You met one yesterday.”

Clary opened her mouth and closed it again.

“I guess I thought it would be more… outwardly magical,” she ended up saying. “It seems relatively normal…”

Isabelle shrugged. “The thing is, here, magic is normal. It’s everywhere, and it’s not a big deal. Here everything lives off its own magical energy. If you want to see it, you just gotta look."

Aline huffed. “Now that we’re done with the intro, can we get to the restaurant? I’m starving.”

Clary chuckled. “You’re right. Let’s eat!”

They all started walking towards the closest food court, Helen leading the way. Aline was chatting with her as they walked, while Lydia, Maia, Izzy followed closely. Clary was a little bit behind, regularly getting held back by looking around at the city. The magic was easier to see now that she knew it was there.

They walked past a eye glasses shop and she caught sight of a tall yellow person, but they were turning their back to her and she didn’t see much more. She didn’t really focus on that, but rather pegged it to the diversity of people in the magical realm. After all, there were already witches, fairies, wizards, and gnomes, according to Izzy. A big yellow person was probably something that existed to.

They made it to the food court and each chose their foods. Clary followed after Izzy’s order, repeating it as closely as she could. When she got her food, she realized that it looked a lot like pizza, actually, except it wasn’t called that at all. That was good to know, at least she could eat something familiar.

The six girls sat around the table. While Izzy and Clary had the pizza-like meal, Lydia had chosen a sort of soup, and Maia, Helen and Aline all had some noodles, served with thin slices of meat and vegetables. They started eating slightly after and chatting.

“So what brings all of you to Alfea?” Izzy asked, munching on her piece of not-pizza.

Clary swallowed. She didn’t know if that was the best question to ask, since she had no idea what Varanda would answer.

Helen straightened up before she spoke. “I was chosen amongst all fairies of age of Linphea to be sent to Alfea to become my kingdom’s Guardian Fairy. The Guardian Fairies of Linphea have always been chosen outside of the royal family. It’s a great honor for me to be there.”

Clary opened wide eyes. “That’s amazing! You must have been so good!”

Helen had a bit of a blush. “I was the best of all preparatory schools, and my skills in healing and defensive magic, and nature magic were a big reason why I was chosen.”

“Well, next to you, I sure feel like I don’t have the credentials,” Izzy huffed. “I was sent to Alfea because my parents wanted me to have the best possible fairy education. Whether I become Guardian fairy or not isn’t really what matters. They just want me to be the best. That’s why I’m here and not at the Solarian Fairy school.”

Aline smiled. “That’s still great. Your parents seem to care a lot.”

“I guess so,” Izzy shrugged, toying with the crust of her not-pizza. “I kinda wish they’d care differently though.”

“Alfea had the best enrollment to graduation ratio,” Lydia said, shrugging. “It was the best choice, logically. And unlike some other good academies that have fairy curricula, it allows non-royals to enroll for free.”

Aline nodded. “That was definitely an argument for me too. I knew I wanted to be a Guardian Fairy rather than just a music fairy. Else I would have gone to the Golden Auditorium. And since the Princess of Melody didn’t want to be a Guardian, I just jumped on the occasion.”

Maia slurped one of her noodles as everyone turned to her. She chuckled. “Princess of Andros. Don’t really have a huge choice about it, my parents really expect a proper fairy education.”

Helen turned to Clary and smiled. “What about you, Varanda?”

Clary opened her mouth to say something but Izzy shrugged. “You know. Varanda, Maia, me, all royals. Stuff is expected of us for sure.”

Clary nodded. “Yes, exactly.” She looked at the time. She’d left Gardenia hours ago. She sighed. “I need to call my family. I’ll be right back,” she said, as she took her phone out of her pocket.

“What, with that?” Lydia huffed, pointing at the iphone in Clary’s hand.

“Yeah. It’s my phone.”

"This is prehistoric technology,” Lydia chuckled. “Where did you get that thing?"

Clary looked up at her with a frown. “That’s… not possible.” Unless they considered a couple of years ago to be prehistory, this was a rather recent model.

“Damn, I would have thought the Princess of Callisto would have some serious tech, but that’s just… cute,” Lydia chuckled. She twisted the phone around, looking at it. “But it’s really interesting in a like… research way. Old tech is so fun to study.”

Aline nudged her, raising an eyebrow and Lydia sighed, before turning back to Clary. "Sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed, that was rude."

Clary shook her head. “It’s fine.”

Izzy rummaged through her purse for a second before she took out a bright purple card with a phone logo on it. “Here. That’s my payphone card. There’s a cabin right outside of the court.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Clary promised, taking the card and running off towards the payphone cabin.

She closed the door of the pod-shaped cabin before sliding the card in the slot. A screen lit up, showing her different options of call destination. She slid through several menus before she managed to find “Earth”. It seemed not to be a popular call destination. She entered the codes and the phone number and waited.

The tonality was a bit different than the Earth one, she noticed. There was a light noise and her mom picked up.

"Hello? Clary?"

"Hi, mom,” Clary sighed in relief. She hadn’t really known if this was going to work. Magic phones were not something she was used to.

“How is it going, darling?” Amber asked presumably from the other side of the universe.

“Everything is great,” Clary sighed. “The school is wonderful. I’m sharing a dorm with Izzy and four other girls. We’re currently out in the capital of the realm, and I had pizza that wasn’t called pizza at all!”

Her mom chuckled on the other side. “That’s great, Clary. Did you get your first classes already?”

“No, courses start tomorrow morning. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted, alright?” Clary smiled, and she turned around, twirling the cord of the phone in her hand as her eyes watched people walk by without really realizing.

“Don’t forget to be careful, okay? And call us whenever you can.”

“I won’t forget, I promise!” Clary said, and just as she was saying that, she saw it.

The yellow monster that had attacked Izzy, then her and her family in Gardenia. Was it following them? She had to do something, she had to follow it and try to keep it from her friends!

“Uh, mom, I’ve gotta go now, my friends are calling me, so a big hug and kiss daddy for me please. Bye.” Clary said as fast as she could before slamming the phone back on its hook and running out of the cabin.

The creature was acting weird. It stuck to the walls, trying not to be noticed, and creeping around the corner. Clary followed it as quietly as she could. As they both turned around the block, she noticed it was watching a group of people. It didn’t take long for Clary to recognize her friends.

It was insane how fast she’d gone from ‘these are strangers’ to ‘these are my friends’, but she’d always been a bit like that. She’d always been always ready to adopt people in her family.

She kept following the creature, even as it left its watching point and started walking into a dark alley. She swallowed. She wasn’t exactly super comfortable with finding herself in that alley but she really needed to know what was going on. And she was a fairy. She could defend herself, couldn’t she?

Clary settled behind a trash can, and watched as the yellow creature stopped in the middle of the alleyway. Suddenly, as three silhouettes moved out from the shadows, clouds gathered and wind blew, the temperature dropping sensibly.

The one that seemed to be leading the three people was tall. She had blonde hair, held up in a ponytail . She wore a sleeveless navy blue bodysuit and a royal blue cape, with boots a darker shade of blue. Down the front of the suit, Clary could see a white stripe that formed a thin belt with the letter "H" over the stomach. She had fingerless gloves, and even from far, Clary could see the dark eyeshadow that covered her eyelids.

On her right was another woman. Her hair was long, brown, styled in loose curls. She had the same type of bodysuit as the first one, except it was a dark purple color and her pants were shorter, more Capri-style. Her gloves, ankle boots, and choker were all a lighter shade of purple. From the choker down was the same white stripe as the first woman’s, except it formed the letter “C” instead of H.

On the left of the H-wearing one, was a third woman. She had brown hair as well, but tanner skin, her hair streaked with dark fuschia. It was messier than her dark-haired friend’s. Her clothing was a bit different, with a dress instead of a bodysuit. It was a dark fuschia dress with a flared collar, matching elbow-length gloves that stopped at the palm, fuchsia tights and short, dark fuchsia heeled boots with pointed toes. She had a choker as well, and the white stripe formed a “K”.

Clary couldn’t help the feeling of doom and gloom that overwhelmed her at the sight of them. She was trying to inch closer to listen more but the yellow monster moved, keeping her from watching and cutting off most of the conversation.

Finally, it moved again. “Well, that’s better,” Clary couldn’t help but mutter. Something shifted in the air, but she didn’t pay much attention to it. The three women and the creature had seemed to stop chatting and she almost swore. She had missed all of it.

Suddenly, she was brutally shoved by some sort of great force and she flew out of her hiding place and landed painfully at the feet of the women and the creature. She knew it had been someone’s doing, but she couldn’t remember feeling any… hands. It had been more like some sort of crashing wave or wall.

She struggled to get up, her whole body aching. The first thing she saw was the first woman’s boots. She looked up. They were all looking down at him with smirks on their faces, and all Clary could think was “run”.

The purple-wearing one disappeared suddenly, and Clary blinked. Nothing made sense.

"So, did you like our little joke?" H-girl asked, a cold chuckle in her voice.

Clary didn’t have time to reply because behind her, where her exit should have been, a voice resounded.

"Turn around!” The purple one exclaimed. “Surprise!" She was laughing at her now, looking at her like she was dirt under her shoe. Her cold smile didn’t reach her eyes. Clary could only feel cold. And scared.

She couldn’t be scared. She was strong, and she’d shown herself as strong, and powerful, in front of much uglier monsters. She’d helped defeated the troll and the red ant monsters, she could take down three twenty-year-old women, right?

“You won’t hurt me,” Clary exclaimed, trying to get up somewhat. Her body was shaky, and she couldn’t explain why. "I am a fairy!"

She opened her hand, and tried to get herself to shoot out some sort of energy blast. All that came out of her open palm was a little trail of glittery sparks, and they didn’t even graze the three women.

The blue one’s laugh was cruel, and it hurt Clary. She’d thought she could do it, but now that she was in an actual magic realm, nothing had happened. Was it only working in Gardenia?

"Ha! You think you scare us?” The blue one laughed. “I’ll show you magic.”

She held out her arms. From her hands came out icy blue sparks, and the temperature dropped down in seconds. Clary felt her hair rise and her body get colder, her teeth starting to shake. With another motion of the woman’s hands, giant icicles starting to bloom from the ground, trapping Clary in between sharp ice blades. She felt it some nick and tear at her exposed arms.

The one dressed in purple, the one that had shoved her earlier, moved forward next. With hands joined and palms opened, she threw a soundwave into the icicles. They broke, and Clary was sent flying back again, unable to catch herself as she fell. She was frozen, she had a headache and felt dizzy from the shock of the crashing sound wave.

She couldn’t do anything but watch as the third woman stepped forward. With a great snarl, the third one summoned was Clary could only describe as a tornado. She was swept away, and she screamed in fear. She couldn’t keep herself from showing how terrified she was. The tornado winds slammed her into the wall of a house, too high, and Clary grabbed onto the closest she could find, the edge of a balcony. Her cold fingers felt like they were going to break as she held herself there.

"And that is magic, little girl,” the third woman shrugged.

Clary made the mistake of believing that this was over. A very stupid mistake. An icy wind caught her and pried her from the balcony edge.

“Get down here! I’m not done yet!” The first woman exclaimed.

Clary cried out. It slammed her down into a pile of trash. Her breath was painfully forced out of her lungs and she struggled to regain it, feeling heavy weight on her entire rib cage. Her eyes seemed to be unable to really focus as tears of pain were overflowing them, blurring her surroundings.

“And now... The final touch!”

She didn’t get to take in her breath before ice grew over her. It started from the ground and encased her feet, growing over her entire body and pushing it upright, forcing her back to arch back. Her eyes were still open, she could see but she couldn’t move. It was so cold. She was going to die in there.

The blue-wearing woman walked to contemplate her work, and hummed in appreciation. Clary wasn’t able to hear what she was saying, as she scratched her nails onto the ice.

Clary, prisoner of the ice, was only able to watch. The three women seemed to be disrupted by something and Clary somehow saw what it was. Her friends stood in front of the women and the creature. The two groups exchanged taunts and the creature charged towards the fairies. Clary wished she could do something.

The girls dodged the first attack. Light blinded everyone suddenly, and when Clary could see again, the five young women were now in their fairy forms. Clary had already seen Izzy’s before, the orange crop top and short combo, but she’d never seen the others’.

Lydia circled the monster. She wore a full-body suit of a sparkling lavender color covering her torso and legs. Her powder blue knee-high high heeled boots struck the ground with certainty. She screamed something. Her wings were so different too, Clary couldn’t help but wonder why. It seemed that hers were the only ones that did not look like traditional fairies wings. Rather, they were green and in the shape of a glider. It was the same green that poured out her when a cage, which Clary guessed was why she had screamed earlier, materialized to imprison the yellow monster. It buzzed with an energy Clary could feel, even from within her icy imprisonment.

Aline striked next. She shouted something, probably the name of a spell, and her pigtails moved as she shot the energy beams towards the caged monster. Her outfit was now a glittery red left-sided one strap top with translucent pink fabric at the middle, a red mini skirt covering some matching shorts, and red knee-high wedge boots. It seemed strangely feminine for what Clary had seen of Aline’s style, but fairy forms were true representations of fairies’ power, not a stylistic thing.

Magic-made sound waves seemed to pound around the monster’s head, and even the ice vibrated. Clary saw Izzy wince at the sound of the magic waves. It was affecting everyone. Aline seemed to be the only of them not to be kinda uncomfortable with the sound. That could be due to the headphones her fairy form had added to her outfit.

Helen still looked uncomfortable as she flew forward, holding out arms covered in light pink elbow-to-wrist fingerless gloves. She blew on her hands and lime green magical pollen flew towards the monster. Clary had the time to notice that the pollen was the same color as Helen’s wings, line green, translucent and shaped like leaves.

The magical polen planted itself in the ground beneath the caged monster and wrapped around its limbs. Right as the energy cage broke, Lydia’s spell not holding for long, the magical plants held the monster tied tightly so it wouldn’t escape. Helen got back to the ground, fuschia dress blowing and revealing the mini shorts underneath, just as the vines growing around the monster seemed to get a life of their own and threw the bound creature towards a wall. The monster screamed as it flew.

As the three scary women realized the creature was defeated, they turned towards the fairies. The blue one, whose powers seemed to be ice-related, sent a burst of icicle daggers flying towards them. All the fairies gathered behind Maia, who deployed a plasma shield.

Maia’s outfit was an all-green, just as sparkly as the others’, ensemble, composed of a one-shoulder top and a mini skirt atop mini shorts. There was a sash connecting her top and skirt, and several silver rings around her outfit and on her arms. Her wings were sky blue with spiky-styled mauve tips, the same mauve as the plasma shield she was keeping up.

Immediately following the ice burst, the fuschia-wearing woman was the next to attack. Her energy ray was electric and it made Maia’s shield explode, sending all of them onto the ground.

Clary wished she could get to her friends, but she couldn’t feel anything in her body but the cold that was taking her over. She watched as Izzy stumbled to her feet and grabbed her scepter.

Suddenly, there was no more ice.

Izzy transported them nearby. Clary could still feel the cold, and she was struggling to move, every breath feeling hard and painful. Izzy sat down by her side, wrapping her arms around her tightly. Clary closed her eyes.

Izzy started radiating heat, and Clary snuggled deeper against her, laying her head on Izzy’s chest and sighing. She was shaking slightly but Izzy kept her close, one hand gently caressing her exposed, frozen skin.

“You’re gonna be alright, Clary,” Izzy whispered gently. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. You were so brave, I’m so proud of you!"

Clary could feel herself smile, at Izzy’s words. She was glad Izzy wasn’t mad at her for getting herself in danger, for getting her in the kind of situation where she could have had her scepter stolen.

She was starting to move and feel much better. As they both looked up from their little bubble of warmth, they noticed the four other girls, standing above them with arms crossed and something a bit annoyed on their faces.

Aline leaned forward, looking at them. “So. Is there anything we should know about Clary of Callisto?" She asked. She was angry. They all were.

Clary opened her mouth to speak, but once again, Izzy was too fast. "Er... Well, I might have been lying a bit about Clary’s background. I’ll explain everything on our way back to Alfea."

They all got on the bus and started the way back to the castle. Helen and Aline were sitting closely, and were chatting quietly, while Clary, Izzy, Maia and Lydia discussed Clary’s background a little more. Maia and Lydia were especially curious.

They weren’t that mad, it turned out, as Izzy explained everything to them. They were annoyed that Clary and Izzy hadn’t trusted them with the information in the first place, but they understood why they hadn’t, and it was all that mattered.

---------------------

The telltale tug of students entering the warded area of the school warned Hodge and Cleophas that the students were back. They’d been waiting for a few hours, ever since Hodge had seen them walk out and known, immediately, that with Isabelle of Solaria leading them, they would not be back by curfew.

He’d taken his concerns to the Dean, who had then told him that something was wrong with the list of enrolled students. According to the list he’d checked as students were coming in, Varanda of Callisto was present. However, Dean Graymark had received a message from the Royal Family of Callisto that their daughter wouldn’t be attending, since they did not trust Isabelle of Solaria entirely when it came to delivering the news.

A quick investigation had revealed that an unknown student had taken Varanda’s place, led into the castle by Isabelle. It had also revealed that said student was now sharing a room with the future Linphean Guardian Fairy, a young woman named Helen, and an apartment with Isabelle and another princess, Crown Princess Maia of Andros.

Both Hodge and Cleophas were ready the second the girls tried to come into the building. Isabelle was still leading them, which proved to be absolutely no surprise to both members of the staff.

Hodge cleared his throat, coming out of the shadows. “Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Cleophas nodded. "Young ladies! We were worried sick! Go to bed immediately. We’ll discuss the rules again tomorrow."

As all the girls walked past them, Hodge grabbed the arm of the red-haired one, the one they had realized was not who she was supposed to be. "Not so fast, Princess Varanda. Isn’t there something you forgot to tell us?"

The girl looked very guilty and sheepish as Hodge let go of her arm. He noticed also that the other students had stopped in their tracks the moment he had grabbed her. She was already making friends, and strong bonds were already forming between them and her.

“I’m not Varanda of Callisto,” the girl said softly. “My name is Clary Fairchild.”

Hodge shook his head. “Shame on you, young lady. Identity theft is not permitted. Especially identity theft of a royal.”

Dean Cleophas stepped forward. “She might not be Princess Varanda, but she must be a magical creature or the barrier would’ve kept her out. Now, tell me, Clary, why didn’t you give us your real name?"

"Well, I..." The girl started replying, but Isabelle cut her off, stepping forward.

“It’s my fault! This whole thing was my idea."

The red-haired student shook her head. "It’s okay, Izzy. I come from a small town on planet Earth called-”

Hodge scoffed. "Outside the realm of Magix? Utterly impossible!" Fairies hadn’t been born on Earth for centuries. Earth was a lost cause to magical beings everywhere, and no one ever bothered trying to reignite the Winx there. It had been too damaged, and the horrible circumstances of the Earth fairies’ disappearance had tainted the planet forever.

"I beg you, don’t send me away. I’ve always wanted to be a fairy with all my heart and now I can make my dream come true."

Hodge shook his head, deaf to her pleas. "You lied to us and that is unforgivable!"

"But, she also has a dream and she totally believes in it. She has displayed a great tenacity and isn’t that a quality that every fairy should possess?" Dean Graymark pointed out.

Hodge sighed a little. She was right. And it wasn’t like Varanda was going to come now that her place was free. They could keep the girl. They could also punish her severely with detention for the next three years for her lies.

"Now, go to bed, all of you,” Cleophas said. “And don’t make any more noise."

The six students thanked her and left.

Hodge immediately turned to her and shook his head.

The woman sighed. "I didn’t think there were any fairies left on Earth."

Hodge nodded in agreement. "Me neither, I thought they’d all disappeared centuries ago, when the Circle attacked them..."

"Well, then, who is Clary?"

-------------------

Not long after, the six fairies had gathered in Clary and Helen’s bedroom, wearing their pjs. Clary was wearing an oversized hoodie from a popular Earth tv show and some shorts. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed

“What if we called ourselves the Winx?” She suddenly blurted out, and everyone turned their attention towards her.

"What?"

Clary chuckled at their tired and confused expressions. "The Winx, us! I mean, if we’re going to be a group, we should have a name! Don’t you think?"

"Actually,” Lydia pointed out, something thoughtful on her face. “it’s not a bad idea... A name is good for a quick reference."

Izzy, who was sitting next to Clary, wearing a fancy, lacy nightgown that would not look too out of place in a period tv show, hummed. "It’s true! The three witches are the Trix. And we could be called something like…” She paused for a moment. Her smile became a little mischievious as she started offering names. “The Super Six... The Izzy Six... Oh, I’ve got it! The Airy Fairies!"

"The... The what?" Aline asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The Airy Fairies! It’s short and sweet and it rhymes!” Izzy chuckled. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it, Aline?" She said sarcastically.

"Nah... it sounds terrible!"

Maia raised a hand from her position on the floor. "I vote for Winx!"

All the others ended up saying some version of "Me too."

"Perfect!” Clary grinned. “We’re the Winx. I mean… it’s stupid but I saw it written on some stuff in Magix City. And I didn’t even think about asking: What does "Winx" mean?"

Helen grinned. “It’s the name of a fairy’s magical energy. I have a nature-sourced winx, while Izzy has a sun-sourced Winx. And it kinda also became the name of the basic fairy form. The one you saw us take today!”

“Nerd,” Izzy chuckled.

Clary chuckled as well and looked at them. “So now we’re the Winx. One day, everyone will be learning the definition of Winx, and adding a reference to us at the end.”

------------------

In the next chapter, there’s going to be a big party in Magix. This is an opportunity to meet the Specialists. The boys from Red Fountain are really amazing. The witches won’t be invited, and they will react. What will they do?

#shwinxau #clizzy #heline #malec #shadowhunters #fic #mine

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kuno-chan · 6 years

Text

Sides of the Moon - Ch. 2, When Death Reflects Life

Summary: Runaan and his team of assassins discovers that Rayla has defied him. Again. But when they find her, she’s bleeding out in the woods with precious cargo under her arm and face to face with the princes of Katolis running away from their own castle. They find that, upon this meeting, the die has already been cast.

Rating: T

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2

The elf named Callisto carried Rayla into a tent.

While the other elves didn’t seem to have any intention of hovering near the tent, the tension was… there. Their leader, Runaan, seemed to go meditate on a rock. With Ezran more than ready to bed down for at least a bit, Callum elected to go through the items he’d swiped from Lord Viren’s secret room.

He had nabbed a variety of things: a book, a bunch of knick knacks he just blindly grabbed, a few stones that looked a bit suspect and a jar of some kind of ointment. On the way out, he also managed to grab the primal stone that Claudia had left in her father’s office. He didn’t know what he would do with it, but he didn’t need Lord Viren or Claudia to have it when they realized that Callum and Ezran were gone.

It all was a blur, really. Not exactly a point in time when he was thinking the clearest that he had ever reasoned. Half of these things he probably wouldn’t use, but it was better than having no supplies. He regretted not grabbing anything to eat. One look in Ezran’s bag, however, and he relaxed a little bit. Just a little. At least Ezran had grabbed a handful of jelly tarts.

After all, what did elves eat?

Callum kept the primal stone tucked away in his bag. The last thing they needed was for the elves to feel threatened. He continued to sift through the contents of the bag, examining his collection. Something scraped against his fingers, cutting across the soft pads. He winced as they welled with blood. Grabbing the ointment, he opened it and spread a little bit of the contents over his skin. It burned a little more than it should have, but the wound closed before his eyes.

Callum blinked. Well, that was useful.

-:-:-:-

Runaan meditated on the slab of rock. He tried, at least.

He hadn’t bothered to go into the tent where Callisto was treating Rayla. No, Callisto would be better off without Runaan hovering over him working. Combat, yes, Runaan excelled at, but treating critical wounds were in Callisto’s realm. It was one reason Runaan had elected him as a linchpin part of the team.

Still, Runaan felt as if he should be in there. Would Rayla respond to the sound of his voice? He recalled a time when a mighty fever had swept through their home in Xadia. Thankfully, the healing mages were able to call her from the brink, but they credited her ability to keep from slipping beyond that point to how she clung to his voice.

But Rayla had been a child then. She could pull through this, now. With Callisto’s help.

He wasn’t worried about anything beyond her fate tonight, but the consequences of today didn’t sit well with him. She had disobeyed his direct orders. Not once, but twice. Naturally, something had to be done about that.

It haunted him.

“You should look at these.” Andromeda stood to his left. Runaan looked up at the swords she displayed before him. Rayla’s swords were dry with blood. The blades, the handles... it had not come from just a single human.

“We don’t know if she killed any of them.”

Andromeda’s voice was soft. “You saw the state of her, Runaan. Do you really believe that?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe, right now.”

“Rayla, above any of us, knows the importance of getting the egg back to The Dragon Queen. You know she would have done anything to get it out of the humans’ hands.”

Runaan sighed through his nose. “I know.”

Giving her own life was a small sacrifice to Rayla if it meant correcting the dishonor her parents had inflicted. But would Rayla kill a human? He thought she would have. He thought he had taught her better than that.

Now, he questioned his judgement in that matter.

“Are you still considering her punishment?”

Runaan met Andromeda’s gaze, his face flinching with the regret in his heart. “You know I have to.”

Andromeda shook her head. “She had redeemed herself today. At least, somewhat. Xadia will regard her as a hero for what she’s done. You know this, Runaan. Look at where she’s at. Hasn’t she been punished enough?”

“If I don’t punish her then they will at home. It’s not entirely my decision.”

She got on one knee. “Plea with them.”

“I plead with them once and look what happened.”

“Yes.” She said. “And we have the egg. You plead with them once and, now, The Dragon Prince is with us after what we thought was its destruction.”

“She defied me, Andromeda. I can’t simply overlook that! She nearly cost the entire mission and could have killed us all with her stunt! Do you believe that I want to consider this?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Andromeda replied. Runaan broke eye contact with her. “She doesn’t deserve to be punished. Not with the severity you have in mind. And you know it.”

The curtain to Rayla’s tent opened. Callisto’s head slipped through the opening. He gestured for Runaan to come inside. In the tent, the surroundings were were the color of lavender ashed and Rayla looked pale in comparison to all of it. Callisto’s tools lay around her, her bloody clothes discarded in a corner and a blanket over her up to her chest. Runaan could see her fighting for breath even in her near unconscious state. He could hear it.

Her wheezing was wet. As if her body couldn’t keep up with the havoc that had been wrecked on it. Across from Runaan, Callisto told him quietly, “Be with her. Talk to her while I go outside for a moment.”

Runaan nodded. He didn’t question it.

Callisto left and Runaan knelt beside her. “Rayla.”

Slowly Rayla turned her head toward him. Her eyes shuttered open and closed.

“Runa… Ru...” she tried weakly to say his name, but she winced and her chest rose and fell in several, slow deep passings. The wheezing sound was more evident than ever.

“Don’t try to talk,” he said to her softly. “Save your strength for later. You will pull through this.”

He prayed this was the one time she listened to him.

Her hand, bloody and pale, inched toward him. Her wrists… he saw the dark scars around them. He took her by the hand and squeezed it gently. It was so cold.

She didn’t squeeze back.

-:-:-:-

Outside, Callisto could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but he ignored them all.

There had to be something out here that could help him. Something. Anything.

Damn these human lands. In Xadia, the very nature around them would be useful for healing, but here there was no such magic. No such help within reach that might be able to save Rayla’s life.

As Callisto muttered to himself, Ram approached him. “What’s happened?”

Callisto was still looking around.

Ram grabbed him by his arm. “Callisto.”

Callisto looked into that dark face and pursed his lips. It was enough of a message. Ram let go of his arm and turned his attention toward the tent. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Is there nothing that can be done?” Andromeda asked.

Callisto scratched the back of his head. Tiredly, he replied, “I don’t know. This is different.”

Runaan walked out of the tent and toward them, his eyes filled with the emotion that he tried to keep from his face. “What is it that you need to help her?”

“I don’t know...I need something… something more…” Callisto muttered out loud.

Out of the corner of his eye, Callisto could see the elder prince standing off to the side. Callisto looked at him. Prince Callum’s brows were knitted together. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Skor crossed his arms. “What do you think, human?”

Skor’s comment didn’t seem to deter the prince. Prince Callum pulled something from out of his bag and extended it to Callisto. A jar. A small one. “I, uh… I don’t know if it’ll help, but I found this ointment in some of the stuff I took from Lord Viren’s secret room. I put it on my cut a few minutes ago and it healed it way faster than it would have on it’s own. It might be magic. If you need it, it’s all yours.”

Callisto blinked at the prince. He cautiously took the jar from the boy, opened and gave it a whiff. It smelled medicated. Familiar, even. Perhaps there was an essence of magic in it that he had come across in Xadia. Callisto closed the jar just as Skor put a hand over it.

“We can’t,” Skor looked Callisto dead in the eye.

Skor, damn him, sometimes. Callisto hissed, “Skor, what else would you like me to do?’

“It could be magic. Dark, human magic. You don’t know what kind of dirty trick this could be--”

Prince Callum put up his hands in defense. “No, I swear! It’s not a trick! I found it. I don’t even know what it is, really. But I swear it healed me. I wouldn’t lie about this in this situation.”

Ram grabbed Skor’s shoulder. “He’s right, Skor. Listen, why would he lie surrounded by elves tha could kill him in a second flat?”

Skor gritted his teeth and looked at Callisto. “You cannot trust this human.”

“That’s enough, Skor.” Runaan said firmly and took a step toward them. “Callisto’s judgment is better than the rest of us when it comes to healing properties.”

“Runaan, you know humans are liars. How can we be sure this won’t kill her and turn her into some creature of dark magic?” Callisto rolled his eyes. Oh, for alls sakes. Callisto--”

Callisto wrenched his hand out of Skor’s.

“We have no choice!” Callisto snapped. He sighed and looked at Runaan. “Rayla is dying.”

They all went quiet. Even if Runaan had clearly seen that from being in the tent with her, a pain still seized his chest.

Callisto looked at them each as he explained, “Her wounds aren’t closing. Nothing I’m doing is working. These are different. Inflicted by dark magic, I suspect. If she doesn’t die of blood loss she’s going die of infection. This is all I’ve got.” He faced Runaan. “Give me the authority to use this. Give it to me and I will do everything within my power to save her life.”

Runaan met Callisto’s gaze. “Do whatever it takes.”

Callisto gripped the jar tighter and, with a curt nod, disappeared into the tent.

-:-:-:-

The hour passed.

Callum felt as if he were on trial despite the help he intended to provide. If something did go wrong because of that ointment, then, he would surely be to blame. It was bad enough the elven man, Skor, shot Callum a dirty look every chance he got, but the real scare was their leader.

Runaan went back to his meditating, but Callum wondered if he was actually meditating. Sometimes, Callum caught him with his eyes open just staring into the space before him. Callum had seen that kind of look many times on King-- on his stepfather’s face many a time when matters of Katolis required the king’s hand.

A man between a rock and a hard place.

Callisto finally emerged the tent. All eyes were on him, but he only walked over to Callum and regarded him for a moment.

He tossed the jar into Callum’s hand. ““Allow me to study that later?”

Callum blinked. “Uh-uh, yeah. Yes, of course. Is she…?”

Callisto crossed his arms. “She’s going to be fine… thank you.”

Ram popped up next to Callisto first. “Wait, so she’s going to live?”

Callisto nodded and turned to face the rest of the elves. “Yes, she’s going to live. She needs rest and food when she gets up, but, otherwise, she’ll recover.” There was a tangible wave of relief through everyone. Runaan stood. “Now, for the next problem. When do we need to leave?”

Runaan answered his question with one his own. “When can she move?”

“When can we help her move, you mean? Callisto snorted. “She won’t be moving for a couple days, but we can probably start travel tomorrow night. Give her tonight and tomorrow to rest and we should be able to be on our way.”

“A whole night and day,” Ram winced. “That’s a long time with the princes in tow. No doubt they’ll be looking for them. And us.”

“Then, we’re going to need round the clock scouting rotations,” Runaan said. “Ram you do the first scouting. Skor, you will back him up on watch. Andromeda and I will stay up. Callisto, rest. You’ve done enough for now.”

Callisto nodded, rubbing his eyes and made to retreat to his tent, but turned back briefly. “She’s asleep, but you can go see her now.”

Runaan was already on his way.

So, she as going to make it. Good. That was good. After all of that, Callum wondered if he could even sleep, but he bedded down next to Ezran and Bait and didn’t even feel himself slip away.

-:-:-:-

When Runaan took her hand again, it was warmer. Not as warm as would have made him comfortable, but it was better than those icy limp fingers from earlier. The cold had never bothered him until that moment.

He peered into her face and saw something more relaxed. Not a languish to the world, but the faintest eagerness just to sleep without pain or peril. Then again, perhaps he was imagining all that. Perhaps it was his own relief that he was reading in her face.

After so many years, Runaan found it easy to discern Rayla’s facial expressions. She was somewhat bad at hiding them anyhow. But he hated the fact that he now knew what she looked like on the brink of death. Death and pain beyond what her senses could handle. It was more unsettling when he considered how easily she usually bounced back from nearly anything.

He glanced down at her wrists at her sides. Those scars. He had not bothered to ask about those unusual wounds on her wrists that resembled her other wounds in how there was a burnt quality to them, but they were… different in nature.

When she woke and was able to, he would have to ask her what she experienced in the castle. It was still his duty to make sure that nothing was going to become a problem from those experiences. Even Skor wasn’t too outrageous to question that.

Dark magic. Callisto suspected dark magic had been inflicted upon her. He needed to know what kind and could it still hurt them now.

When she got up. When she felt a bit better.

He would also need to question who. Prince Callum had mentioned their high mage, this Lord Viren who had apparently stolen the egg of The Dragon Prince. It would not be a great stretch to believe he had something to do with this. Some naive part of himself had always wanted to protect Rayla from the horrors of dark magic. Runaan had seen terrible things. Nasty things.

Things that should not have been, but humans had found dark magic and, with it, the most unnatural things anybody would ever witness because of it. Dark magic was… invasive. Pervasive. He had once felt it’s tendrils on him in a fight. Thankfully, that match ended with him the victor.

And throwing up in a river.

But that had been years ago. He was more ready now. He questioned if he prepared Rayla enough…

The whole thing sent a shudder through him that he was glad she wasn’t awake to see.

For now, he squeezed her hand again and didn’t mind it when she didn’t squeeze back. He felt a finger twitch into his palm.

-:-:-:-

When Runaan returned to the campfire, he sat down next to Andromeda. She watched him sit as his shoulders sagged just a little. Only a little while none of the others were around to see.

“How does she look?” Andromeda asked. Perhaps it wasn’t the brightest question about someone who had been on death’s door, but it was an honest one.

“Tired,” Runaan whispered. “But she’s not in as much pain.”

“Is she sleeping?”

“With some peace.”

Andromeda kept her voice low. “Good. You always knew she was going to make it.”

Runaan frowned. “Did I? When I was in there I had never seen her so close to death. We’re taught to accept death so that we will not fear it, but what about someone else’s?”

Andromeda had no direct answer for that. It was little secret that Rayla had raised Rayla in place of her parents. But in Andromeda’s case, she had never seen Runaan favor someone so much in his heart. There were few who he let that close to him. “I know it’s different to watch her go through these things. Don’t be afraid. You know who you raised.”

Runaan pauses. “I think she was ready. I think, if death had come for her today, she was ready.” Andromeda nearly reached out for him. “But I wasn’t ready for how cold her death would feel like.”

It’s different for certain people. We don’t fear death--”

“But there’s a rule for every exception? Is that what you were going to say?” He raised a brow and glanced at her sideways. He snorted when she smiled faintly at him. “Perhaps you have a point.”

“Perhaps. I have those every now and again,” she agreed. “You should rest. We need you sharp for tomorrow.”

Runaan shook his head. “Not right now. You go. Sleep will do me more harm than good, I suspect.��

She didn’t bother asking him what he meant. They all had their fair share of terrors after a mission gone wrong. She squeezed his shoulder as she got up and retreated to her tent, but not before glancing over at the sleeping princes and peaking in on a Rayla that was dead to the world. But the wounds that were visible seemed much better, healing over with new, pink skin. Andromeda would help her into extra clothes in the morning.

I liked writing this chapter. A lot of time to give a glimpse of the elfsquad and reflect on Rayla and Runaan’s past a bit.

Please consider reblogging and reviewing/commenting if you liked it or have something to say. Thank you for reading! Tune in for next chapter!

#moonfam #runaan #rayla #tdp #the dragon prince #my fics #please consider reblogging if you liked it!

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faveficarchive · 5 years

Text

...But We're Not the Same

By Atara

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: PG-13

Synopsis: Xena and Gabrielle come clean, and in doing so realize how they feel for one another.

A/N: This story takes place very shortly after "The Debt." While it may quickly be superceded by "Bitter Suite," consider it my own version of a reconciliation of the rift between Xena and Gabrielle.

On their boat trip back from the kingdom of Chin, Xena and Gabrielle both felt awkward and uncomfortable, deliberately avoiding conversation. Xena perused the book of Lao Ma's wisdom, her forehead creased in thought, occasionally shaking her head. Gabrielle was too absorbed in coping with her usual seasickness to pay much attention to what Xena was doing.

Once they docked, much to Gabrielle's relief, and Xena had retrieved Argo from the stable she had hired, they began the journey home. Their first night camping out, they sat silently by the fire. Periodically, Gabrielle would glance at Xena then look back quickly at the fire; in between, Xena would glance at Gabrielle, then look back quickly at the fire. Finally, they both glanced at each other at the same time and spoke simultaneously.

"Xena, I have something..."

"Gabrielle, I have..."

They laughed slightly, and Xena said, "You first."

"No, you go ahead."

Bemused, Xena said, "Gabrielle, this could go on all night."

"OK, I was saying that I have something to tell you."

"That's just what I was going to say to you," mused Xena. "Anyway, you go ahead."

Gabrielle took a deep breath, while nervously shredding blades of grass with her fingers, and spoke.

"My baby, Hope...I didn't kill her...I couldn't."

"I know," replied Xena gently.

"You know!" exclaimed Gabrielle. "How?"

"I think I know you pretty well by now," answered Xena with that affectionate and somewhat indulgent smile from one side of her mouth that Gabrielle so often provoked. "I hope what you did won't come back to harm you, Gabrielle. You know I think it was a mistake. But we'll deal with it when it happens. What did you do anyway?"

Gabrielle felt a small wave of relief wash over her. "I put her in a basket and sent her down the stream, hoping someone would take care of her. I just couldn't- "

"I know," nodded Xena.

"Um..." interjected Gabrielle, "what did you want to tell me?"

"I..." Xena's frowned, struggling with her admission. "I killed Ming Tien."

"I know," replied Gabrielle with a sigh.

"You know!" exclaimed Xena. "How?"

"I guess I know you pretty well too," said Gabrielle sadly. "You were so determined."

"I had to. Lao Ma left me the weapon, a sharp hair ornament that I had given her before as a gift. It was an unmistakable message. I had to obey her last wish. She tried so hard to achieve peace, but she couldn't harm her own son. But she knew what had to be done, and she counted on me to do it. I couldn't let her down."

Gabrielle was sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees and shaking her head vigorously. She hadn't listened very closely to Xena's explanation. She burst out,"Why, Xena, why?"

Xena looked puzzled, then begin to explain, "He had amassed too much power, he was ruthlessly cruel..."

"No, not that! Why do we do this?"

"Do what?"

"Lie to each other and pretend we believe the lies. I thought we trusted each other completely. And I nearly had you killed...That dungeon, those boards... " Gabrielle burst into tears.

Xena moved closer to Gabrielle, putting an arm around her shoulders. Despite her sobs, Gabrielle felt a comforting warmth from the muscled arm around her. While in Chin, she had been convinced that she would never again feel Xena's touch, the gentleness belying the awesome strength. Xena spoke.

"I forgave you for that Gabrielle, but" she added wryly, "I'll agree it wasn't one of your wisest decisions." Gabrielle sobbed more violently, and Xena realized this was a situation dry humor wouldn't fix. Patiently, she pulled Gabrielle closer and explained, "We do what we do because we care about each other. I don't want you to think less of me, and I expect it's the same with you." She paused, groping for the best way to explain what she meant. "And when you care about someone very, very deeply, you build a picture of that person in your mind. Maybe we pretended to believe the lies, and maybe you prevented me from murdering Ming Tien because we want to keep those pictures as flawless as we can." Gabrielle's sobs began subsiding, and Xena reached over to rummage in a nearby pack and draw out a scrap of cloth. She gently wiped at the tears, then let Gabrielle snuggle closer.

"And in many ways we're different people," Xena continued. She hated talks like this, but Gabrielle had to understand. "We're not always going to agree on the right course of action, especially when all the possibilities are ugly ones and there isn't a single right answer. You saved Hope, and you tried to save me from killing Ming Tien because deep down inside you were sure they were the right things to do. I killed Ming Tien for the same reason. What's right isn't always going to look like the same thing to both of us."

"I know," murmured Gabrielle miserably, new tears leaking from her eyes. "Sometimes I don't understand you at all, how you think, what you do, why you do it. It scares me."

"It's going to happen," sighed Xena, removing her arm from Gabrielle, "more and more. The longer you travel with me, the more you'll learn of my past. Who I was then didn't just disappear when I started doing good. She's still with me, always a part of me, a part that can't be denied, no matter how much you don't want to see or acknowledge her. And I know you don't, and I don't blame you. And sometimes my past actions will have consequences that I need to deal with *now*. *I* was responsible for Ming Tien becoming the monster he was; I was on my way to becoming such a monster myself. There are times I'm going to have to clean up the messes I've made, and it's not always going to be pretty.

"I can't just put my past self behind me; I have to live with the knowledge of everything I did, and I have to live with the consequences, and sometimes I have to pay...and pay...and pay. And however much I pay it will never be enough." Xena's voice grew harder and more remote as she spoke. But she refused to give in to self-pity; as far as she was concerned, she certainly didn't deserve it. "And that's how it should be," she continued. "There's no ultimate absolution in this life. All I can hope is that I do enough good to begin to balance out the evil. But there's no magic finish line to cross; I'll never be done dealing with who I was."

"Oh, Xena," gasped Gabrielle sympathetically, fighting back further tears. While she certainly had had inklings of the full implications of what Xena was saying now, she had avoided facing them head on. Her love and admiration for Xena were so great, it was almost impossible for her to see *her* Xena and the past Xena as the same person. She wrestled with it frequently in her mind, but usually dismissed the problem as unsolvable. All that mattered was what Xena did *now*. But that wasn't *all* that mattered, it wasn't enough, and Gabrielle had to force herself to face the truth.

"You and I live in different worlds, Gabrielle." said Xena flatly, fighting to keep emotion out of her voice. We can never see things in exactly the same way; our experiences are too different. I love you, and I hope you still love me, but we're not the same. And look what I've done to you! If it wasn't for me, Callisto wouldn't have killed Perdicus, and you'd be living peacefully and happily with your...husband." The last word was hard to get out; Xena had to force it past an obstruction that seemed suddenly to lodge itself in her throat.

"Xena!" exclaimed Gabrielle, trying to push away a nagging thought that intruded at the mention of Perdicus as well as a renewed upwelling of grief. "You're not responsible for Callisto's actions or her mental state. Callisto is mad, deeply, deeply mad. Other people survive the deaths of their families without turning into homicidal lunatics."

"I know," said Xena patiently, struggling with the guilt that always threatened to swamp her when she thought about Callisto and particularly about Perdicus' murder. And she thought about them pretty regularly, punishing herself relentlessly. "I know she's mad. But I gave that madness a direction, a channel."

"She's going to be back, isn't she?" asked Gabrielle, shuddering.

"Yes, probably."

"She's so powerful now. I worry she might...kill you."

"Callisto?" snapped Xena. "Kill *me*? Not likely. What would she have to live for if she killed me? Hating me gives her the only real purpose her life has. No, she'll never kill me. She'll just do her best to destroy everything I love, killing me a little bit at a time. But not entirely. She'd like nothing better than to make me immortal too, and spend eternity forcing me to face myself."

Xena sighed. She knew equally well that she needed Callisto, with that lethally malevolent childishness and that baby voice, as if her development had been arrested as a young girl, festering there instead of ripening into adulthood. Yes, she needed Callisto, her scourge, her reminder. It was easy to see herself reflected in Gabrielle's eyes, even as that reflection grew more flawed, less ideal. She needed Callisto to stop her from getting complacent or self-congratulatory.

Gabrielle's question broke into her thoughts. "How do you deal with it? All of it, not just Callisto. Doesn't it hurt?"

"Of course it hurts," returned Xena snappishly. Her own pain was not a subject that interested her very much. It was something to be bludgeoned away if it couldn't be ignored, just the way she could repair a dislocated shoulder by ramming it into the hardest available object. Her voice grew gentler, as she turned to Gabrielle. "I deal with it, in large part, because of *you*. You help me see that what I was then is not *all* I am. I couldn't do that without you. I *need* you. But if not for me, if not for the hate I sparked in Callisto, you'd be happy..."

"Xena!" interrupted Gabrielle. "Please don't. It hurts...and I feel so guilty."

"Guilty, why?" asked Xena, surprised.

Gabrielle sighed, staring straight ahead of her, "Because I *am* happy. With you. That's why the past couple months have been so hard for me. And I feel so guilty because I know I couldn't have stayed happy with Perdicus."

*I could have told you that!* retorted Xena mentally, then reminded herself of all the reasons why she couldn't have told Gabrielle that.

"I thought that's what I wanted," continued Gabrielle. "I didn't know who I was; I thought I was just imitating you, not being myself. And Perdicus was so gentle; I knew I'd be comfortable with him, and he wouldn't push me around the way some men do. But I was wrong. I belong with you -- your partner. I couldn't have been happy living that life."

"I know," said Xena quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" demanded Gabrielle. "If he'd lived I'd be there now. He didn't deserve what happened, and he didn't deserve a wife who could only love him as a brother or friend, not a husband. How can I buy my happiness with his death? Why didn't you stop me?"

Xena turned to look directly at Gabrielle. "Gabrielle, you're an adult. Besides, your love life is none of my business."

Gabrielle muttered, "I wish it was."

Xena remarked, very quietly, "That makes two of us."

Gabrielle laid a hand on Xena's arm, gripping hard. "Tell me the truth, Xena. I'm not a child. Do you really want me...that way?"

"Yes, I do."

"How much?"

"So much," said Xena, "that I couldn't abuse my position by taking advantage of you. So you see, that puts me in kind of an awkward position when it comes to advising you about your love life."

"Oh, Xena," sighed Gabrielle.

"It's not been easy," growled Xena roughly. "I could have seduced you any time--like that!" She snapped her fingers. "I usually get what I want in that area, and you looked up to me so much...but I didn't want you that way...And I'm not very good at dealing with what I want when I get it -- I don't do relationships very well. I didn't want to hurt you; I still don't. I didn't want you in a position where you had no choice. So when you decided to marry Perdicus...I couldn't stand in your way."

Tears began to trickle from Gabrielle's eyes again.

Xena said, much more softly, "And if I failed you by not speaking, I'm so sorry. It wouldn't be the first time I failed someone I care about."

"No, Xena, you did the right thing," declared Gabrielle. "You're right. I was an adult then, and I am an adult now. And I still look up to you, but I hardly think you're perfect."

Xena suddenly grinned. "A good thing too."

Gabrielle laughed. "*And*, Xena, I'm in a position where I can make a choice. I've seen you at your best, and I know a whole lot about your worst...and I love you."

Xena took both of Gabrielle's hands in her own, lightly stroking the backs with her long fingers. "I love you, too. But is this what you really want?"

"Yes," said Gabrielle stoutly. "But I admit it scares me."

"It should," returned Xena. "You have to be strong, Gabrielle, strong enough not to let me swallow you up. And you have to be able to promise me that no matter what happens, you'll always be a part of my life--I can't lose that."

"I promise. That's the most important to me too. Now will you just kiss me, Xena? I'd rather do it without Autolycus' mustache in the way!"

Xena laughed, and Gabrielle joined her, like two friends together laughing at a shared joke, before their lips embraced.

The End

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #pg-13 #author: atara #femslash #fanfiction

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faveficarchive · 5 years

Text

I, Conqueror: Part 1

by: SwordnQuil

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

The moon was a pregnant sphere which hung heavily over the jeweled horizon, shining ghostly light into a sheltered glade hard by a small pond and protected by tall old trees who told their secrets to none save the owls perched regally upon their fragrant boughs.

A golden Palomino cropped grass near the pond’s edge, her hide burnished gold by the light of a cheery fire blazing near the center of the tiny glen.

The horse’s Mistress sat on the dew-dampened ground, her back resting against a fallen log, her hands occupied in the time-worn task of sharpening steel, the sound echoing across the pond’s still waters to sing against the opposite shore in a martial melody.

The woman’s companion lay, stomach down, on a fur bedroll, the noise of her quill’s scratching on leather parchment obscured by the rhythmic sounds of whetstone on weapon. Her body moved slightly, as her mind’s eye replayed the events which were being transcribed into the words she was writing. Her free hand came up occasionally to tuck a fine tendril of long, blonde hair behind one small ear. The quill ceased its movement as the young woman scowled, her fair brows knitting low over her eyes. "Xena?" she asked, not looking up from her parchment.

"Yeah?" her companion answered, continuing her task mindlessly.

"When I was going up against that big guy, you know, the one with the bald head and the eye-patch, did I double thrust with the left or right end of my staff?"

Halting her arm’s soothing motion, Xena tilted her head, thinking for a moment. "Right," she said, nodding definitively. "Definitely."

Gabrielle looked up briefly, grinned, then turned her attention back to her scroll. "Thanks!"

"Anytime." The sound of sharpening filled the air once again. "It was a beautiful move, by the way," she mentioned, off-handedly.

Gabrielle looked up once again, her green eyes wide. "Really?"

"Yes. Really." Xena’s expression was totally serious. "You’ve gotten incredibly good with your staff. Poetry in motion."

The bard couldn’t have kept her jaw from dropping open if she’d tried. "Thanks," she managed to finally stutter out after a few half-strangled attempts. "That means a lot, coming from you."

"Nah," Xena shrugged, " just telling it like I see it." Sheathing her sword, she stood in one fluid motion, the muscles in her long thighs shining in bas relief in the fire’s shadowed light. "I’m gonna check the perimeter. Be back soon."

Then she was gone, into the night, a soundless specter among the shadows.

Gabrielle blinked at the space her lover used to occupy, her face a study in perplexity. "Well, whadda ya know." She looked back down at the parchment, then gave up, knowing that after a bombshell like that, writing was a lost cause, her mind only wanting to replay the last thirty seconds of her conversation with Xena. "Poetry in motion, huh? Heh."

Rolling the half-finished story up and carefully tying the cord off, she gently shoved it into her scroll-bag, then flopped over onto her back, crossing her hands over her belly and looking up into the summer’s night sky as she awaited Xena’s return.

Several moments later, the bard found her view blocked by raven hair and dancing blue eyes. "See anything interesting up there?" Xena asked.

"Now I do," Gabrielle replied, grinning as she pushed herself up to lean on her elbows. "Everything quiet?"

"Yup." Removing her sword and chakram, Xena made quick work of her armor, bracers and boots, placing each in a careful order around their shared bedroll, her weapons the most close-at-hand. As was her habit this far into the wilderness, her leathers stayed on, much to her partner’s chagrin.

Pretending not to notice the expression on Gabrielle’s face, the warrior lowered herself down onto the bedroll, then gathered her lover into strong arms, placing a tender kiss to one fire-warmed cheek before settling back and looking up at the stars painting the night sky.

"You ok?" Gabrielle asked after a long moment, listening to the steady beat of the brave warrior’s heart beneath her head.

"Just thinking."

Another moment of silence, punctuated by the muted crackle of the banked fire.

"’Bout what?"

Xena’s chest expanded as she took in a long breath of air, then settled as she slowly let it out. "About the fact that I wish Autolycus had chosen a city other than Corinth to get himself arrested."

Understanding dawned and Gabrielle nodded. She knew that Corinth was one of the few areas that Xena actively avoided during their travels. It had been the sight of her worst defeat, the battle where she’d had to give up Solon and pull out, or risk the death of her son as well as the loss of her war. The Corinthians were sure to look none-too-favorably upon the Warrior Princess in their midst, even after all these years. Gabrielle heard it told from other bards that "Wanted" posters for Xena still littered the city’s walls.

Yet, despite it all, Xena was going back, willingly. All to help out a friend.

And Gabrielle believed that that particular act spoke volumes on just how much her partner had changed.

"Xena?"

"Mmmm?"

"What would have happened if you’d won that war? If you’d taken Corinth?"

The ensuing silence lasted so long that Gabrielle had given up on an answer and had just started to fall within the seductive web of Morpheus’ realm, when Xena’s deep voice rumbled beneath her ear. "Athens would have fallen and Greece would have been mine."

"Is . . .was . . .that what you wanted?"

Xena sighed again, awash in bitter memories. "At the time, yes. It was something I’d worked for for years. The loss of that dream, no matter how temporary a loss it might have been, devastated me. Borias was gone. Solon was with the Centaurs. My dignity stayed on the battlefield. The only thing I had left was my army, though I still can’t believe they stayed with me after all of that."

"And now?"

"Now? Gabrielle, the world doesn’t need someone like me having that kind of power. Say what you like about me and my seeming abilities to control my dark side. We both know it’s still there, waiting." She tightened her grip around the warm body laying so trustingly in her arms. "No. I have no wish to relive that particular dream again." Her voice, when it came again, held a definite smile. "Not when I have so many others I wouldn’t mind reliving, again and again."

Loosening her grip, she reached down and tilted Gabrielle’s head upwards, then met the soft, beckoning lips with her own, slowly deepening the kiss until both women were breathless.

"Oh yeah," Gabrielle said, grinning up at her lover, "feel free to keep reliving this dream as many times as you want."

Xena returned the grin with a feral one of her own. "I intend on doing just that, Bard. Starting now."

*******

Gabrielle awoke slowly the next morning, grumbling when a shaft of sunlight had the temerity to lance through the trees and rest on her closed eyelids. "Ugh," she muttered, pulling the fur covering over her head. "Just five minutes, Xena. I promise. Just five minutes."

There was no answer. Not that she had expected one, of course. Doubtless, the ‘up before the dawn’ warrior was swimming a few hundred laps in the pond, or working out some new, dazzling moves with her sword, or honing up on any one of her myriad of many skills, or whatever it was that she did when the haunting nightmares of her past pulled her out of the warmth of the bedroll and out into the land of the living once again.

The sun, as if realizing that its light wasn’t going to work in getting the small woman out of bed, commenced to use its other skill, heating the bard to near roasting beneath the thick fur of her cover.

"Alright already!" Gabrielle yelled, flinging the cover off her overheated body. Rolling onto her back, she scowled up at the sky. "Apollo, if you ever decide to come down and pay us a visit, please don’t hold me responsible for what I’m gonna do to you for these tricks you pull on me every morning."

The sun god wisely chose silence as the better part of valor, deciding instead to shine his rays on some other, more appreciative, territory.

Sighing in relief, the bard sat up, stretching, yawning, and trying to get her sleep-tousled hair back into some semblance of order. Her bladder chose that moment to announce, quite loudly, that a trip to the bushes was definitely in order, post haste, if you please.

Groaning over the unfairness of it all, she rolled to her feet and stretched once again, yawning until her jaw protested.

Her teeth shut with a snap as she blinked the sleep from her eyes and looked around the campsite for the first time since she’d fallen asleep in Xena’s arms the night before. Her urge to relieve the pressure in her bladder fell away just as suddenly.

"Xena?" she called out softly, turning her head to the right, the left, and the right again.

The waking forest’s soothing noises were her only answer.

"Xena? Xena, where are you?"

Silence.

Her heart sped up as she looked, once again, around the campsite. All of Xena’s possessions were gone. The absence of her weapons and armor were easily enough explained, given the warrior’s propensity to leave nothing, not even a simple fishing expedition, to chance.

In this case, however, everything was gone. Gone as if it had never existed.

Argo’s saddle and tack were missing, as were the saddlebags. The bard looked up. "Argo? Argo, come here, girl."

When there was no response, she whistled the command that should have had the warhorse at her side within seconds.

But she remained alone in the tiny glade.

"What in Tartarus is going on here? Xena, if this is your sadistic way of teaching me a lesson, please believe I’ve learned it. I swear on my father’s name, I’ll never sleep in again. Could you come back now, please? This isn’t very funny anymore."

More than a little annoyed with Xena’s antics, Gabrielle looked back down at the bedroll, sorely tempted to just go back to sleep until the Warrior Princess came back to her senses.

"No," she moaned softly at the sight which greeted her eyes. "Oh no. Please, no." Where two bedrolls had lain the night before, rumpled from their loving, only one now lay. Dropping to her knees, she buried her nose in the soft fur. Only her own body scent rose up to greet her. Of Xena, there was no trace. "By the gods," she whispered. "What’s happening to me?"

A noise sounded somewhere behind her and she jumped to her feet, staff in hand. "Xena, is that you?"

The noise was repeated and Gabrielle recognized it as the sound of booted feet moving through the forest, heedless of the noises they were making.

Correction. Many booted feet. And they were headed her way.

Whirling, she spied a likely stand of thick undergrowth and ran to hide within it, intent on discovering if it was friend or foe that was marching toward her.

Within moments, the first signs of human life entered into the glen in the forms of heavily weaponed and armored soldiers who were leading a large group of men, women, and children bound together by chains running through manacled wrists and ankles.

The bard counted twenty soldiers and at least five times as many captives. She tightened the grip on her staff, her quick mind coming up with and discarding various methods of attack. "Damnit, Xena," she whispered, "where are you?"

Gabrielle winced as the men and their captives shuffled by, trampling over her personal possessions as if they were just so much fodder littering the forest floor. As the last soldier slipped past her hiding spot, she began looking ahead, mentally constructing a path where she could remain hidden, yet continue tracking them until she could think of what to do against so many and still have a hope of being successful.

The woods became denser very close to the path the group was following, and Gabrielle chose that as her point of entry, slipping silently from her cover, already planning her ambush. "You owe me big for this one, Warrior Princess."

Just about to make her move, she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She turned quickly, staff raised, and narrowly missed sending a stranger into Hades’ realm. "Wha . . . . What are you doing here? It’s very dangerous out there right now. You need to get as far from here as you can. Quickly."

The stranger, a wizened old man with a beard that stopped at his belt-line, smiled calmly at her, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. "You must come with me. It is very important."

"I must . . . . Maybe you didn’t understand me, sir. You need to go back where you came from. Alone. I need to track those soldiers and figure out a way to get those people away from them. I don’t have time to talk to you right now."

The tiny man put a gentle hand on Gabrielle’s arm, his dark eyes earnest. "You must make time, Gabrielle of Poteidia. The fate of the world hangs in the balance."

Gabrielle’s eyes narrowed. "How do you know my name?"

"That is not important right now. What is important, however, is the message I must give to you."

Sighing in frustration, the bard dragged a hand through her hair, looking in vain for the soldiers and their captives. Perhaps, if she hurried, she might be able to set up her ambush further down the path. "I’m sorry. I can’t. I . . . ."

"You must. Please."

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Gabrielle schooled her face into an expression of polite interest. "What is it that you have to tell me?"

"Not here. Soldiers come. More everyday. Great armies are amassing in Corinth. The war is near. You must come with me to a place of safety. All will be revealed to you there."

"But those people . . . ."

"They will be safe, for the moment. They are to be used in the Conqueror’s mines."

Gabrielle’s eyebrows furrowed. "The Conqueror?"

"That, too, will be explained. Please. Come."

She shot one last look down the trail, then turned back to the man standing so patiently before her. She sighed again. "Fine. Lead on."

*******

Gabrielle found herself in a tiny cave, its interior brightened by the light of a small fire near the center. Thick furs lined the ground around the fire, and bags of food, water and clothing lay in disarray near the barren walls. The bard had visited more than a few hermits’ caves in her travels with Xena, and this one appeared to be no different from the rest.

While the man arranged his bone-thin body comfortably on the skins closest to the fire, Gabrielle chose to remain standing, reining in her impatience and need to help the captives she’d seen only with the strongest of efforts. Planting the tip of her staff into the sandy ground, she leaned against it, looking down at the strange man. "What is it you need to tell me?"

The man smiled his serene smile. "Firstly, my name is Manus. I am a Priest of the Fates."

"The Fates? What do they have to do with anything?"

Manus folded his hands in his lap and stared into the fire. "A great deal. Against their will, the tapestry of life has been rewoven into a present that should not be."

Bewildered, Gabrielle shook her head. "Would you mind explaining that a little better? I don’t think I understand what you’re saying."

"You know of a woman named Callisto, am I correct?"

"Yeah, I know her alright."

"In your reality, she is a goddess, right?"

The bard frowned. "What do you mean, ‘in my reality’?"

"Exactly as I have stated. Is she not a goddess?"

"Wha . . . ? Yes, she’s a goddess. Has she done something? Has she changed something?"

Manus nodded. "Indeed she has. The world you fell asleep in last night is not the world you woke up in today. As a goddess, Callisto managed to change the course of history by going back in time and preventing a very important thing from happening as the Fates had decreed that it should."

"And what is this thing that she changed?"

"In your world, there is a man known as Hercules. I assume you know of him?"

"Hercules! Of course I know him. Everyone knows Hercules! He’s one of the greatest heroes of our time!"

The old man shook his head sadly. "No one in this world knows of Hercules, because he was never born. Callisto killed his mother before she could give birth to him."

"By the gods," Gabrielle whispered, closing her eyes as she tried to imagine the horror of a world without Hercules in it. All the people he saved, dead now because he was not there. The giants and monsters he killed, free to roam the countryside because there was no one strong enough to stop him. "This is unbelievable."

"It is also, unfortunately, true."

"Why would Callisto do something like that? What could she stand to gain?"

"Her motives were not made clear to me, I’m afraid," Manus said, apology heavy in his tone. "As for gain, the only objective that can be guessed is her seat at the right hand of Greece."

"Say again?"

"The Conqueror is Greece, and Callisto sits to the right of the Throne."

"That’s the second time you’ve mentioned this conqueror person. Who, exactly, is the Conqueror? A name, please. Not more riddles."

"Gabrielle, I speak in what you call riddles only so that you may understand the gravity of the task I have been asked by the Fates to give you."

The bard balled her fists in frustration. "What task? Who’s the Conqueror? What’s going on here? I’ve got a lot of things that I need to be doing, and playing ‘twenty questions’ isn’t one of them."

Manus raised up his hands in a placating gesture. "I will ask you but one more question. I believe your answer will lead to your enlightenment."

Taking a deep breath to cool her temper, Gabrielle nodded. "Fine. What’s the question."

"What is the most important thing Hercules has done that has impacted your life most directly?"

Gabrielle frowned, thinking over all the times she had met Hercules. All of the encounters were important. How to pick one above the rest? Was it the unchaining of Prometheus? A chained Titan, particularly Prometheus, would certainly throw the world into chaos, but if that had happened here, in this supposedly new reality, the effects certainly weren’t the same as they were in her reality. Despite being very old, Manus seemed quite healthy. The fire blazed easily in its pit.

She scratched at the back of her neck. What else could there be that was important to her directly? The only other thing she could think of was when he first crossed paths with . . . .

She looked up, face white with shock. "Xena. That’s it, isn’t it. The Conqueror you’re talking about, it’s Xena, isn’t it."

Manus nodded. "Yes. Xena is the Conqueror of Greece. Without Hercules to help change her path from evil to good, she was able to gather another army and storm the walls of Corinth. Athens fell soon after. She rules Greece, India, Egypt, Chin, and many other lands with Callisto at her side. And now, even as we speak, she is preparing to go to war against Caesar’s Rome. The Fates have told me that it is a war neither will win. Like a fire, it will spread all over the known world. Its effects will be felt as far away as Gaul and other places which we do not even know exist. Millions will die and civilization as we know it will lie in ruins. This war must not be allowed to take place."

Gabrielle stood silent in shock, her mind awhirl with images. She couldn’t comprehend what she had just been told. The pieces refused to fit together in her mind.

"You are the only one with the power to prevent this from happening, Gabrielle," Manus said solemnly.

"Me? How am I going to stop a war?" Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Does Xena even know me in this reality?"

The old man stood and laid a compassionate hand on the bard’s chilled arm. "No, she does not. Poteidia and everyone in it was destroyed many years ago by a warlord named Draco who thought to challenge Xena’s superiority. In this reality, you never existed."

The tears escaped her eyes’ imprisonment, rolling slowly down her cheeks. "Then how am I supposed to do what you ask? It took me years to gain Xena’s confidence. And that was a Xena who had already chosen the path of the greater good. I don’t have that kind of time! And even if I did, she would probably have me killed before I even got a chance to speak to her."

"The road ahead is difficult, Gabrielle," Manus agreed, awkwardly patting her back in an attempt at consolation. "There may be, however, one thing that can assist you."

Wiping the tears with the back of her hand, Gabrielle looked down at the man. "And what’s that?"

"There is a jewel that sits at the tip of the Conqueror’s scepter. Xena does not know of its properties, though Callisto certainly does. It is called the Cronus stone and it, alone, has the power to help a mortal change the fabric of time. If you can somehow retrieve this stone, you can use it to take you back in time to where Callisto killed Alcamene. If Hercules is allowed to be born, the tapestry of life will be rewoven into its correct alignment and this reality will end. Yours will become the true reality once again."

"So, all I have to do is get close enough to Xena to steal the stone, figure out how to use it to go back in time, and prevent Callisto from killing Alcmene?" Gabrielle’s tone was wry.

"It is either that, or try to convince the Conqueror to give up her plans for this war. Either way, the balance of history rests upon your shoulders."

The bard shook her head. "Why me?" she whispered.

"Because you are the link, Gabrielle. You are the pivot-point upon which the two realities merge."

Lifting her staff, the young woman paced within the cramped confines of the cave, her facial expression shifting rapidly from grief, to confusion, to a steadfast resolve, to grief again. "Will . . .will I succeed?" she asked finally.

"Even the Fates themselves do not know the answer to that question, Gabrielle. I’m sorry."

Gabrielle laughed bitterly. "I figured as much. When have the gods ever been of any use to us." She held up a hand before Manus could reply. "Don’t bother. It was a rhetorical question."

Ceasing her pacing, she squatted down in front of the fire, staring into the dancing flames as if she could divine something from their shifting patterns. Xena’s voice sounded in her head. Gabrielle, you’ve never run from anything in your whole life.

And she hadn’t. Not really. Not when it counted.

She rose to her feet, decision firmly made, heart steeled for the path ahead. "Alright then," she said, voice deep and steady with resolve, "point me in the direction of Athens."

Manus smiled. "The Conqueror resides in Corinth."

The bard flicked her hand. "Corinth, Athens. Let’s just get this show on the road. I’ve got a stone to find."

The wise-man couldn’t help grinning at the young woman’s courage. "A few words of caution before you set out."

"What," Gabrielle asked, obviously distracted and ready to go.

"Whatever her reasons, Callisto exchanged her godhood for the chance to rule at the Conqueror’s side. However it may look, she is the same Callisto from your world. She knows who you are and doubtless will know of your purpose, should you be discovered by her. I have no doubt that she will do anything she can to prevent you from accomplishing your task."

Throwing her hands into the air, the bard rolled her eyes. "Great. As if it isn’t going to be hard enough trying to steal a jewel from the Conqueror of the known world. Now I’ve got Callisto to contend with too?" She spun to stare at the tiny man. "Anything else you’re not telling me?"

Manus frowned. "You are going to need to change your clothing."

Gabrielle returned the look. "My clothing? What’s wrong with my clothes?"

"You are wearing Amazon-style clothing, Gabrielle. The Amazons no longer exist, except in a few, isolated pockets, in this reality. And those who do exist are in constant fear for their lives. Callisto has made it her ultimate priority to wipe every woman see sees as an Amazon from the face of the earth."

"Callisto? Since when does she care about the Amazons?"

"She didn’t, at first. The Conqueror had considered them a threat and nearly obliterated the largest bastions of Amazons, figuring, some say, to come back at a time when they were at their weakest and cull from them their strongest fighters in exchange for the safety of the rest. Their newly risen Queen-in-absentia, however, a woman by the name of Velasca, ended those plans by almost succeeding in killing Callisto last year while the latter was on a scouting trip for the Conqueror. Callisto has taken a quite . . .personal . . .interest in them ever since. To walk about in the clothes of an Amazon is to sign your own death sentence."

Knots within tangles, Gabrielle mused, realizing that Hercules’ absence had effects far wider ranging than even she had first considered. Since, in this reality, Xena had not died and Gabrielle had not existed, there was no one to stop Velasca from assuming the throne of the Amazons. She sighed. The Amazons, her friends, gone. Her family, gone. Xena, a cruel stranger and ruler over most of the earth.

Of them all, only Callisto remained constant. Maybe I can use that to my advantage, somehow. Maybe.

"Alright, I can work with this," she said aloud. "Maybe. Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Not that the Fates have told me," Manus replied, rummaging through one of the sacks on the ground and coming up with a simple peasant skirt and blouse, which he handed over to Gabrielle.

Taking the clothing, the bard looked at the tiny old man and raised an eyebrow.

After a moment, the priest caught on, and laughed. "Fetching as I’m sure I would look in that ensemble, I’m afraid the Fates made that choice themselves. I only followed their instructions."

Gabrielle couldn’t help the smile that slipped out. "I guess I’ll have to take your word for it, for now. Is there any place I can change into these?"

The priest bowed at the waist, his beard scraping gently over the dirt-packed ground. "I shall step out of the cave to give you your privacy. Let me know when you’re done."

Several moments later, Gabrielle was dressed and receiving final instructions. Looking down at her long skirt and modest blouse, she couldn’t believe how much she’d grown from the young peasant child who’d first gone out into the world wearing much the same clothing. It now seemed just short of ludicrous that she’d even made the attempt back then.

And now, here she was, just three years away from being that naïve little girl hanging onto Xena’s coat-tails. Now she was expected to take on the world. Quite literally.

"Alright," she said as Manus finished off his ‘authentication’ of her outfit by ripping the entire bottom of her skirt off haphazardly while at the same time, rubbing dirt into the cloth. "Anything else?"

"That’s it, I think," the priest replied, tossing the spare fabric into the fire and watching as the flames greedily licked at it.

"Um . . .how long do I have? Before this war happens, I mean."

"From what I’ve heard from the soldiers who pass unknowing by my little home here, I would say a moon, no more than two at the very outside. When the Conqueror desires something, she doesn’t take her time obtaining it."

Gabrielle snorted. "That’s Xena, alright."

"It’s said that she’s waiting for more troops to arrive from the outermost reaches of her reign. Those from Chin are just now starting to come ashore. When everyone is present and accounted for, she will set sail for Rome."

A month isn’t a very long time to talk the ruler of the world out of a war. Especially a war against Caesar. I know how much she hates him, and I’ve got a feeling these two realities are the same on that particular score, Gabrielle thought, fidgeting with her skirt. I’m good, but I’m not that good. Looks like it’s the stone or nothing. Hope it comes with instructions or something.

Straightening her back and squaring her shoulders, the bard hefted her staff and blew out a long, cleansing breath. "I’m ready."

"Your staff . . . it might not be such a good idea." Manus, again, looked apologetic.

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. "And why not? Too long? Too short? Too . . .wooden?"

"Too Amazon," he explained, pointing at the markings. "If the soldiers don’t recognize it as such, Callisto and the Conqueror certainly will."

"They’re just going to have to live with that, then. This staff comes with me. Besides, if Callisto gets close enough to recognize my staff, she’s gonna recognize me well before then. I’m sorry, Manus, but I’m just going to have to take the chance that Xena’s army out there doesn’t know the difference between an Amazon staff and a Spartan war mace."

"That doesn’t seem very wise," Manus said, doubt coloring his voice.

The bard sighed. "Manus, I, a simple bard from Poteidia, am going, willingly mind you, up against the Conqueror of the known world to either steal a jewel from her scepter or to prevent her from waging war against her greatest enemy. If you can find any wisdom in that, I’d like you to tell me, because I sure don’t."

Manus smiled. "Point taken," he conceded.

"Great. I’m glad we got that settled. Now, which way to Corinth?"

*******

The imposing, monolithic stone of the Conqueror’s palace rose from the soil of Corinth like a Phoenix from the flames. An apt analogy, given that, in the end, a massive conflagration had signaled Xena’s triumphant entrance into the city that first time. She had expiated the city’s sins through burning and now stood at the precipice of a total retribution against the only man who had ever defeated her. All within a three-year time span.

The Conqueror was nothing if not extraordinary.

Without the castle, the massive grounds were filled to almost overflowing with soldiers setting up housekeeping in preparation for the upcoming war. The light from untold hundreds of campfires created a false dawn, stretching almost to the horizon.

The soldiers, still mostly Greeks, set about their tasks with a quiet military precision, each knowing that at any time, the gaze of the Conqueror could come down upon any one of them and send their souls halfway to Hades before their bodies even knew they were dead.

And no one, volunteer or conscripted, wanted to be on the receiving end of that.

Tents were set up quickly, armor was attended to and weapons were honed to a razor’s edge in preparation for the battles ahead. Conversations were muted and there was very little laughter, ribald or otherwise, to mar the seeming peace of the night.

It was a glaring contrast to the bands of marauders that the Conqueror herself used to lead those long ago years.

Few people knew that Xena had lost one army in her life. Being forced to walk the gauntlet was something she kept at the front of her mind each and every morning she looked out upon the lands she’d won through her skills. It was a humiliation she would never repeat. Back then, she had relied on some misguided sense of loyalty binding her men to her, before realizing the truth to the lesson that there is no honor among thieves.

This time, her recipe for absolute obedience was frighteningly simple.

Fear.

Fear had taken her to the top of the world, and fear would keep her there.

Within the castle, the atmosphere was much different. In the massive dining room, large enough to fit, it was said, the whole of Mount Olympus with room left over, the sounds of celebratory gaiety rang out against the imposing stone walls whose blank monotony was interrupted colorfully by gigantic tapestries which had taken many artisans years to create and maintain. Low music was barely heard beneath the sounds of voices raised in toasts, cheers, and drunken conversation. The room was filled with scents that hinted at savory delicacies from every land in the world.

Bold colors ran rampant in the massive room, the hundreds of torches serving to highlight hues every shade of the rainbow, as well as many others which Nature, in her infinite wisdom, hadn’t yet seen fit to create as yet.

Above it all, the Conqueror of Many Lands sat, her face expressionless as a granite mountain. The throne that supported her body was made by the same artisans who gilded their fallen leaders in gold and left them to slumber eternally beneath hundreds of tons of sandstone in the deserts of Egypt. It was gifted to the Conqueror by Cleopatra herself, who, it was said, traded her Queendom for a Conqueror’s kiss. The reality of the situation was much more prosaic than the stories the bards delighted in telling, but the romanticized idealism inherent in the tale made good press, and so each woman allowed the rumor to stand unmolested.

The Conqueror was clad in a long, heavy gown, its style, taken from the robes worn by the Emperors of Chin, one she’d long favored. Sewn into the gown were hundreds of priceless jewels, cunningly sculpted to form the iridescent scales of a large dragon which wrapped itself around her body and rested its fiery head upon her breast.

A simple golden headpiece sat atop her raven hair, which was bound up in an elaborate knot close against the back of her neck. Her body was barren of any further adornments, save for the large ring that nestled itself around her left middle finger, its clear stone the exact color of her eyes.

Behind her, huge, handsome, bare-chested men stood at attention, gently waving massive fans to dissipate the rising heat from her body.

All in all, she looked frighteningly remote and terrifyingly beautiful. The brightest jewel in Greece, setting herself up as a prize to be fought for and won. Untouched and untouchable. Perfection personified.

Or so the poets said, when seeking her favor.

She was also, at this very moment, utterly, absolutely, and abysmally bored.

The party, ostensibly thrown to celebrate her third year as the Ruler of Greece, had not been her idea. Far from it. Beneath the majestic robes continued to beat the heart of a savage warrior. In the depths of her soul, Xena still believed that her sword dictated her rule. Politics, she believed, were for the weak; for those who lacked strength of body and mind and so had to rely on false masks of ingratiating servitude to get what they wanted from this life.

And yet, civilization itself was built upon this eunuch’s game, and if she wished to be remembered as more than a bloodthirsty, and frightfully lucky, warlord, she’d have to play it better than anyone else.

And, for three years, she had.

It didn’t mean she had to like it, though.

Sharp eyes scanned the crowd yet again as she fought off the urge to drum her fingers on the clawed arm of her throne, wishing for something, anything, to break the monotony of the evening.

Cutting her eyes to the far right, she noticed Callisto, who had chosen to forgo her usual black leathers in favor of a gown that was, impossible as it seemed, even more revealing than her usual battle wear. It was done up in shades of gold and dark blue, with a neckline that plunged so severely that Xena was sure a private trim had been the order of the day before she slipped into it. Her breasts were just barely hidden, their innermost swells peeking tauntingly from their cover of sheer fabric every time the blonde woman moved the slightest bit.

Chocolate eyes met hers and a seductive smile curled the corners of Callisto’s full lips as she finished up her conversation with a swarthy man, leaving him pale and sweating and uncomfortably adjusting the inseam of his trousers as she walked away.

"Oh Xena," Callisto purred into the Conqueror’s ear as she bent forward at the waist, offering Xena a tantalizing glimpse of hidden treasures, "isn’t this party simply wonderful?"

Xena shot her second-in-command a look that would have frozen an erupting volcano, had one happened to be about. Callisto, however, wasn’t much fazed, being well used to that particular expression over the years, particularly when it was directed at her.

"Don’t be that way, my darling," the blonde continued, trailing a finger up one of the Conqueror’s arms. "Your people simply adore you." The seductive finger trailed along a bared and prominent collar-bone. "So why don’t you just sit back . . ." Then slowly dipped down toward the valley of the Conqueror’s breasts. " . . .relax . . ." Then slipped beneath the fabric, teasing warm, supple skin. " . . .and enjoy yourself."

Quick as lightening, Callisto found her wrist trapped within an iron grip as Xena pulled it from her cleavage.

Fighting not to allow the pain to show in her eyes, the beautiful blonde schooled her features into a girlish pout. "You’re just no fun anymore, my love. Haven’t you ever heard that all work and no play makes the Conqueror a dull girl?"

Remaining completely expressionless, Xena applied more strength to her grip, crushing the delicate bones of Callisto’s wrists until they were near to fracturing, then eased off, flinging the thin woman away from her, though not hard enough to cause the other woman to stumble and lose face in front of the crowd.

"Fine. Be that way," Callisto snapped, resisting the urge to rub her injured arm. "I’ll just have to find my fun elsewhere."

For the first time that evening, the remote expression of the Conqueror changed as Xena allowed a smirk to come forth. "You do that."

Callisto’s fingers itched to wipe the condescending expression from Xena’s face, but her mind called halt to her body’s demands. It wasn’t easy, Callisto being who she was, but in order for her carefully laid plan to bear fruit, she had to act the part of a loyal underling.

Closing her eyes, a smile curled her sensual lips as she pictured a vision sure to come to pass: a vision of the proud Conqueror, her hated and beloved enemy through past and present, through all realities, true and faux, Xena—the Warrior Princess—tethered at the neck and kneeling at her feet, a servile beast existing only to feed the whims of the one named Callisto.

Soon. Yes, so very, very soon, my sweet..

Opening her eyes, Callisto tipped a lewd wink the Conqueror’s way and slipped through the crowd, intent on playing through her fantasies in the peace and comfort of her own rooms.

*******

Drawn through the darkening evening toward Corinth by the horizon’s rosy glow, Gabrielle came through the last of the forest surrounding a gently breasting hill. Her eyes widened at the sight below her. Hundreds of small fires dotted the landscape, casting a glow that extended almost as far as the eye could see. The Corinthian palace, black against that rosy glow, seemed to rise up from those flames, remote and omnipotent. She’s in there, somewhere.

In her mind’s eye, Gabrielle pictured Xena looking down at this very scene from her room in the castle. Do you sense me? Do you know I’m here? Is there something within you that calls out for someone who never existed in this reality?

Crossing her arms, the bard rubbed flesh suddenly gone chill. Crazy as it seems, I hope so, Xena. Because that’s the only way this plan is gonna work.

Despite herself, Gabrielle laughed. "Yeah, if she doesn’t kill you first."

Slipping back into the forest’s concealment, the bard laid down her bedroll and set up a fireless camp for the night. To get to the Conqueror, she’d have to figure out a way to sneak through an armed camp filled with thousands of soldiers. Plans darted teasingly through her mind as she munched on some trail rations Manus had given her, washing the dryness from her throat with frequent sips from her water-skin.

Refusing to lock herself into one set course, she lay down on the thick furs and stared up at the stars, hoping that inspiration would be found beneath the comforting blanket of sleep. Shivering with the cold and without even a fire to warm some tea, she huddled in her bedroll and prayed for a miracle.

*******

The party was still in full swing when the Conqueror finally gave into her craving to be gone from the sights, scents and sounds of revelry in her name. A short nod, and her throne-bearers came forth, pulling the recessed handles and lifting her to their powerful shoulders as her eyes flicked over the gathered crowd for the final time.

As one, the people turned toward her, straightening proudly and lifting their goblets in tribute. "To the Conqueror!" they shouted in unison. "Long may she reign!"

Acknowledging the obeisance with the barest tilt of her head, Xena silently urged her bearers to escort her from the room, led by the Captain of her Royal Guard, the darkly handsome and lovelorn Marcus.

Her ears welcomed the stillness of the cool hallways as her eyes flitted over the patterns the torches drew upon shadowed stone walls. This deep into the castle, the only sounds that could be heard were the quiet, barefooted gait of her throne-bearers and the purposeful booted tread of Marcus, who led the way toward her private chambers.

Finally arriving at a set of nondescript doors—Xena wasn’t one to announce the way to her private sanctum—the throne-bearers set down the Conqueror. Smiling, Marcus offered his hand, which Xena took, allowing herself to be escorted up from the throne.

Releasing Xena’s warm hand, Marcus drew his sword and opened the door, stepping in quickly while holding his other arm across the threshold, ostensibly to prevent the Conqueror from entering until he had deemed her quarters safe.

Biting back her first smile of the evening, Xena easily evaded Marcus’ ‘protection’, twisting his arm out of the way and stepping into her suite of rooms.

"The day I can’t defeat a simple assassin in my own castle is the day I’ll gladly hand my crown over to you," she purred into her onetime-bedmate’s ear as she passed by, her face tight with a predator’s grin.

Heaving out a silent sigh, Marcus straightened and sheathed his sword, watching as his ruler’s azure eyes swept the length and breadth of the room, seeking any reason, no matter how minute, to draw her own cleverly hidden chakram.

The only movement within was that of the Conqueror’s body-servants, one, a tall woman with shining ebony skin; the other, a petite Asian woman, who came out into the main chamber and gracefully lowered themselves to the floor, kneeling with perfect grace at the feet of their Conqueror.

Determined to be of at least some help, Marcus moved past the trio and into the bathing chamber, his hand on his sword hilt in anticipation of trouble. Seeing nothing of interest, he moved off into the most private area of all, Xena’s sleeping quarters.

The room looked much as it always had, dominated by a huge, canopied bed; large enough, pundits said from behind covering hands, to service her entire army, horses and all. A huge fire blazed in the fireplace, and the sheets had been turned down and adorned with sweet-scented flowers, all in anticipation of the Conqueror’s nighttime activities, whatever they were to be.

Marcus couldn’t help the warm flush that ran through him at the memories of his own times between the Conqueror’s sheets. As with everything else, she was an extremely gifted and passionate lover who took him, a man who’d believed he’d seen and done it all, to places he’d never even thought to dream.

The flush deepened as he hoped that she would choose him tonight to assuage the boredom that seemed to emanate from her very pores.

Realizing that he was loitering a bit too long, the dark soldier blew out a breath and turned from the beckoning bed, traveling back through the bathing room and into the main room, to be met with a knowing glint in Xena’s captivating eyes. He blushed, then cleared his throat, feeling oddly adolescent. "All clear," he finally managed to say.

"As if there was ever any doubt. You may leave."

Startled, he looked up, but the glint in her eyes was replaced by that cold remoteness which had characterized her expression for many, many months, ever since her war with Caesar was assured. Suppressing a sigh of disappointment, he executed a flawless bow. "As you wish, Majesty."

With a look, he collected the throne-bearers, then left the rooms, closing the door softly behind him.

With perfect symmetry, the two servants rose from their places on the floor and began their task of divesting Xena of her accoutrements.

The heavy gown slid from her shoulders, revealing a warrior’s battle-hardened body beneath the vestments of civility, her coiled muscles and tanned skin glowing softly in the muted light of the room. The taller of the two women slipped the crown from her head as the smaller one stepped behind Xena, carefully removing the hairpin and unbinding the long, flowing tresses, allowing them to fall well past the tapered waist of the Conqueror.

"Your bath is ready, Majesty," came the soft-spoken words of Ling Li, the small, beautiful Asian woman who had been a gift from the beloved Lao Ma.

Giving the young woman a nod, Xena padded, naked, into the bathing chamber and slipped her long body beneath the gently steaming water of her hot-tub. She came up for air, pushing the dark hair from her face, then leaned against the back of the tub, allowing the hot water to work its customary magic upon muscles held tense in boredom.

Calming her thoughts, she allowed the sounds of the water gently lapping against the stone sides of the tub and soft noises of her body-servants as they moved around the room, awaiting her desires, to run through her, soothing her.

"Attend me," she softly commanded, not bothering to open her eyes.

A shuffling of cloth as it was lowered to the floor, and within seconds, another body joined the Conqueror in the steaming bath. The sharp scent of crushed herbs came to her nose and she lifted a lazy arm, allowing the woman before her to take hold of her hand and spread the fragrant lather across her heated flesh.

Squatting at the head of the tub, Ling Li lifted a ceramic jug and wet down the Conqueror’s hair once again. She then began to wash Xena’s thick, black hair, turning the chore into a chance to massage some of the remaining tenseness from her Lord’s scalp and neck.

Xena purred as a cat to cream as her body was lovingly attended to. Both servants had long earned their freedom, yet stayed in the Conqueror’s service for reasons Xena did not bother to divine. They served her well and she rewarded them in kind, raising neither hand nor voice to either, and demanding nothing they would not willingly provide.

She had taken both to her bed on occasion, separately or together, and would doubtless do so again when the mood struck her. But she also knew these two women, bound together by a common fate, had fallen into love with one another, and so she, mostly, let them be.

Feeling her body begin to respond to the intimate cleansing it was receiving, Xena reached down between her own legs and grasped the dark woman’s wrist, far more gently than she had done to Callisto earlier that evening. "Not tonight," she whispered, releasing her grip on the woman and coming to her full height in the tub.

The dark woman, Niamey by name, simply bowed and exited the bath, taking a towel from her lover and awaiting Xena’s exit from the fragrant waters.

*******

Carefully dried, then oiled with lavender, the Conqueror sat on a comfortable couch in the main room of her quarters, waiting patiently as Ling Li drew a comb through her hair, grooming the thick mass into some semblance of order. Xena had donned a royal blue, sheer, silk robe. The outline of her magnificent body could be glimpsed teasingly through the fabric, and both women surreptitiously enjoyed the view as they finished their attentions to their leader.

"Will there be anything else, Majesty?" Niamey asked, her ebony skin shining in the torchlight.

"You may go," Xena replied, waving them both away as she stood.

Both women bowed deeply, then exited the chambers on silent feet.

The Conqueror padded over to the massive window which faced east, toward Rome. Unknowingly, she echoed Gabrielle’s words as she stared with narrowed eyes out into the darkness. "Do you sense me, Caesar? Can you feel my breath on your neck?"

The night, of course, had no answer for her.

After a few more moments, she turned from the window and walked over to a massive table where her battle plans lay unfurled. A massive map of Greece and Rome stared back at her from the table. Her eyes scanned the map, picturing the day she would ride victorious into the Italian city, Caesar’s arrogant head skewered on the end of her sword.

A patch of lustful heat curled deep in her belly as a dark smile bloomed to life, unfelt, on her lips. She was the dark face of Death itself; the sword of retribution and the dealer of revenge.

A dagger appeared suddenly in her hand, and with a growl worthy of the demons of Tartarus, she thrust it through the heart of Rome, sneering as the bejeweled hilt quivered from the force of her blow. "You’re mine, Caesar."

*******

Morning came with sunlit promise, and Gabrielle spared a moment to send up a fervent prayer that the day before had been just a dream. But when green eyes, blurred from sleep, opened, only emptiness greeted them. "So much for that prayer," the bard muttered, rolling herself out of the bedroll and stretching her tired, stiff body. Hunger set upon her with a vengeance, yet a breakfast of cold trail rations held little appeal. The thought of hunting and killing an unfortunate rabbit held even less. "Well, they say the ‘lean and hungry’ look is in, these days. Might as well hop aboard that fad chariot."

Several plans had come to her during the night, but nothing seemed to stand out in her mind. The direct route was out. That much she knew.

Gabrielle almost laughed aloud as she pictured herself going amongst ten thousand or more soldiers, imperiously demanding to be taken to their leader. "Yeah. That’ll work. Wonder how effective I’d be without a head?"

Scratching the back of her neck under the long fall of her hair, the bard paced the confines of the small clearing where she’d spent the night.

A putrid smell wafted in on the early morning breeze and, wrinkling her nose in distaste, she followed the scent past the break in the trees, looking down at the massive army below. Women and children, most stooped from a life of heavy labor, wandered among the soldiers, ladling out breakfast from steaming cauldrons. From the stench, Gabrielle wondered if the women were trying to help or hinder the war effort. The men’s expressions, what she could see of them, seemed to be asking much the same question.

The bard’s face lit up. "That’s it! I’ll get myself hired on as a camp follower. Not quite as bold as presenting myself at the palace gate, but at least I’ll get my foot in the door."

Satisfied, for now, with her plan, or what there was of it, she confidently took apart her staff—the kitchen help couldn’t afford to look too aggressive—and stuffed it into her travel bag, which she then slung over her shoulder.

"Alright, Gabrielle. It’s show time."

#xena #xena warrior princess #lucy lawless #renee o'connor #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #femslash #mature #author: swordnquil

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faveficarchive · 5 years

Text

I, Conqueror: Part 2

By SwordnQuil

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Karreleus sidestepped a massive swing from Potus’ blade, then came back with one of his own, narrowly missing the other man’s head with the tip of his sword. "Come on, you sissy. My mother fights better than you do!"

Breathing heavily, the young man adjusted his grip on the sweat-slick hilt of his sword, trying to ready himself for another attack. "I’m trying, Karreleus! I told you I was a farmer!"

"You’re a soldier now, boy. And you’d better start acting like one before the Conqueror herself lops off your head for ya."

Paling, Potus gulped, then nodded, his dark eyes determined. "I’m ready."

"Yer not holdin’ a plow, fer Zeus’ sake! Stand with your feet further apart. Like this!" The old campaigner demonstrated and Potus mimicked his stance.

"Better?"

"Not by much, it ain’t. Alright now, hold up yer blade like that. Steady. Ready? Here it comes."

Potus’ eyes widened in shock as he managed to deflect the blow. A slow grin covered his face. Unfortunately, his amazement blinded him to the fact that the sword was returning for a repeat performance.

His own sword flying from his hand, the young man felt the bite of steel as it sliced through his armor and deep into his chest. Looking at Karreleus in dumb amazement, Potus fell to his knees, then pitched forward onto the ground.

"Aw fer the love of Zeus. Get up, boy!" The older man toed Potus over onto his back, then winced as his blood bloomed from the gaping wound in his flesh. "Damn me to Tartarus. Potus, what’d you go and do a thing like that for?"

"I..."

Gabrielle, who’d caught the very end of the exercise from her place behind a conveniently placed bolder, chose that moment to step into the spotlight, running over to the downed man and clamping her hand over the rent in his flesh.

"Get back with the other cooks, woman!" Karreleus shouted, trying to drag the determined bard away. "This man needs a healer, not a nursemaid."

"I am a healer," Gabrielle replied, "and this man is going to die if we can’t stop the bleeding right now."

"But..."

Another soldier, drawn by the commotion, wandered onto the scene, his hands full of half-repaired armor. Reaching up, Gabrielle plucked the needle and gut from his hand, mumbling a quick ‘thank you’ to the stunned man. Then she looked back up at Karreleus. "Do you have any alcohol?"

The older man concentrated on moving his slack jaw. "We...the Conqueror don’t let us keep none here," he said, finally.

"I got some right here, honey," a third soldier chimed in, removing a dirty flask from his leathers.

"You’re gonna get yer head taken off for that one, Pentres."

"What the Conqueror don’t know won’t hurt her none, Karreleus. Hey, sweetie pie, how’s about you an’ me sharin’ a belt behind the supply tent?" he asked, waving the flask in what he thought was a seductive manner.

"Another time, perhaps," the bard replied, swiping the flask from his dirty fingers. She looked down at her wide-eyed patient. "This is going to hurt a bit, Potus."

"Are...are you an angel?"

Gabrielle grinned. "No. Just a friend. Take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and this will be over before you know it, alright?"

The young man nodded, worship evident in his eyes.

The bard cum healer colored slightly, then uncapped the flask and poured a liberal dose directly over the hemorrhaging cut.

Potus screamed, then passed out.

"Makes my job easier," she said unnecessarily. Reaching into her bag, she brought out a clean cloth that she and Xena used for bandages and dabbed at the wound, cleaning the worst of the blood off. "It’s not as bad as it looks. A few stitches and he’ll have a nice scar to brag about to his friends."

The soldiers looked on in amazement as Gabrielle deftly repaired the gaping wound, her stitches tiny and precise. Smiling in satisfaction, the bard leaned back on her heels, wiping her bloody hands on the rag. Then she looked up at the soldiers crowding around her. "If you boys would be good enough to point me in the direction of your healing tent, we can get this man into a decent bed and bandaged up properly." She flashed them all her most charming smile.

And found herself suddenly surrounded by almost half a camp of eager volunteers.

Oh, Xena, if you could see me now.

*******

The Conqueror, up before the dawn, was seated at her map table and pouring over battle plans when a knock sounded at the door to her chambers.

A nod to her interior guard, and the door was opened. Another soldier stepped across the threshold, bowing deeply. "Callisto asks an audience with you, Majesty."

Leaning against the back of her chair, Xena rubbed the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "Show her in."

The guard bowed again. "As you wish, Majesty."

He disappeared for a moment, then reappeared, a coyly grinning Callisto in tow.

"Good morning, my sweet!" Callisto cried out in her typical singsong voice. "And such a glorious morning it is, wouldn’t you agree?"

Xena eyed her Second briefly before returning her attention to the map on the table. With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed both guards, who bowed and exited the room silently.

Callisto closed the final distance between them, parking one hip on the corner of the large table and pulling Xena’s dagger from its place within the heart of Rome. She pouted, staring into the Conqueror’s glossy black hair. "Looks like someone had a very boring night last night."

Xena glanced up again. "Looks like you more than made up for that."

Callisto stretched, cat-like, proudly displaying the myriad of tiny bruises that dotted her shoulders, neck and upper chest. "I like to think of it as a sacred duty, my love. After all, someone needs to have fun here. And since it obviously isn’t going to be you..." Flipping the dagger in her hand, she proceeded to clean her short nails with it.

Xena returned to her study of the battle plans.

Seeing that the Conqueror wasn’t rising to the bait, Callisto sighed, and, coming to her feet, walked over to the window, staring out over the fields of soldiers beginning a new day. She turned back to the woman who was singularly uninterested in the sight. "Oh come on, Xena! It’s such a beautiful day! The sun is shining..." Trailing off, she cocked her head. "You do remember what the ‘sun’ is, don’t you, darling? It’s that big yellow thing that hangs in the sky and makes us sweat?"

Xena shot Callisto another withering look. "I assume you have a reason for interrupting my work?"

Callisto snorted, flipping the knife casually in her hand. "If you can call looking over the same boring plans for the thousandth time work."

"I can."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"You tell me."

With an overly dramatic sigh, Callisto returned to the desk, perching her hip once again upon one corner. "You need to get out more," she comment in a mock-serious tone, tracing one of the map’s lines with the point of her procured dagger. "And I know just the thing!"

"And that would be," Xena drawled, batting the knife’s edge away with the side of her hand.

"A surprise inspection!" the blonde cried out gleefully. "I think the troops are getting a little lax."

Without raising her head, Xena’s eyes lanced through her second in command. "And the fault for that would lie..."

Callisto pouted. "Just a figure of speech, my darling. I’m sure they’re up and ready to do your bidding at a second’s notice. But it would do the men so much good to see their gallant leader striding among them, poised for action." She cocked her head, staring into the icy blue eyes while twirling the point of the knife around on her finger. "Wouldn’t do for them to start thinking you’ve lost it, now would it."

The blonde’s insides curled as a dark smile bloomed upon the Conqueror’s lips. Before she could even think to move, Callisto was relieved of her knife and caught up in a neck hold, her back pressed against the hard body and soft breasts of her captor.

"Lost it, huh?" Xena purred into Callisto’s ear. "Does it feel like I’ve ‘lost it’ to you?"

Near to dizzy from the scent and feel of the Conqueror’s essence surrounding her, Callisto’s usual assortment of biting quips dried up in her mouth. She swallowed, determined to show the taller woman none of the fear and desire she was feeling from her suddenly changed, and charged, circumstances.

"I asked you a question, Callisto."

And if I could remember just what it was, I’d be sure to answer you, my sweet.

"Don’t think for a second that I’m so enamored of your ‘service’ to me that I would hesitate to snap your pretty little neck, Callisto. You live only because I allow it. You breathe because it pleases me. You’d do well to remember that."

Callisto kept even her thoughts deliberately silent, lest the Conqueror divine their meaning simply from breathing in her very air.

"So tell me, Callisto," Xena said conversationally, tightening her grip a fraction before releasing her captive and flinging her the length of the room, then flinging her dagger so it pierced the wooden door just a hair above the blonde’s head, "are we having fun yet?"

From her place on the floor, Callisto shot the Conqueror a look filled with murderous venom.

Xena threw back her head and laughed, then turned to the room’s other door. "Ling Li! Niamey!"

The two body servants came into the room quickly, kneeling at the foot of the Conqueror. "Yes, Majesty?"

"Prepare my leathers and armor." She looked back at Callisto, white teeth glinting in the torchlight. "I have an army to inspect."

*******

With twin grunts, two soldiers heaved Potus’ unconscious body onto the crude cot which stood within the confines of the healer’s tent, then wiped their blood-stained hands off on the legs of their pants.

A tall, slat-thin man with Asian features and long gray hair tied back in a braid that reached well past his waist, stepped up to the bed, peering down at the injured boy. "Who is responsible for this?"

Karreleus stepped forward. "He forgot to hold his guard and I cut him. ‘Twasn’t meant."

"And the repair?"

Clearing her throat, Gabrielle stepped forward. "Um...that would be me."

The tall man looked from the young woman, down to the boy, then back again. He smiled slightly. "Very impressive. Where did you learn the skill?"

"A...friend...taught me."

"Then you are well blessed to have such knowledgeable friends. The Conqueror would have use for you both in her service."

Gabrielle rubbed at the back of her neck, thinking quickly,. "Um...well, my friend...she’s not from around here."

Dark eyes looked, not so trustingly, down upon her. "Pity. The more soldiers that land upon our shores, the more we few healers are stretched thin among them."

"I’d be happy to help. If you think you could use me, that is."

The man’s distrust became more apparent. "It is rare for a woman to know of the healing arts. More rare, still, for her to be a part of an army. Is there something you are hiding? Are you an escaped slave?"

He grabbed her arms, looking for caste-brands, and Gabrielle allowed the examination, determined to give the man no reason to mistrust her. "No," she assured him. "I’m not...from around here either." She thought more quickly still. A place sprang into mind. "I’m from an island north of Gaul. Britannia. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?" She hoped not. The name came to her from a brief discussion she and Xena had shared one evening. If he started asking questions, she was lost.

The man smiled slightly. "That explains your coloring. Though you speak the Greek tongue like a native."

Gabrielle smiled. "Yeah, well I’ve had years of practice."

After a long moment, the healer nodded, releasing her arm. "Then you are welcomed. I am Tao Feng, Chief Healer in the Conqueror’s army. And you are?"

For a long moment, the bard considered compounding her lies. But then she realized that trust would be poorly gained upon such a formidable untruth. Callisto was bound to find about her sooner or later, anyway. She sighed without really appearing to. "I’m Gabrielle. Pleased to meet you, Tao Feng."

The healer bowed. "The pleasure is mine, Gabrielle." He looked back down at the young boy just brought in. "You stitch with the skill of a Master. Do you also know of herbs and proper wound care techniques?"

The bard’s grin widened. "Yeah. You could say I’ve done it a time or two in my life."

Tao Feng made a careful inspection of the young woman’s body, noting the obvious muscularity and the athletic way she carried herself. A suspicion began to bloom in his brain, but he quashed it ruthlessly. "Have you been in a lot of battles?" he asked instead.

Gabrielle nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "A few, yes. My friend...she was a warrior. I spent a good deal of time sewing her up after one fight or another."

"Where is your friend now?"

"She’s..she...died." The truth of that statement hit her, causing tears to once again prick at her eyes. She looked down at the ground, trying to keep the misery from overwhelming her. I miss you, Xena.

The healer laid a compassionate hand on her wrist. "I am sorry for your loss. It sounds like your friend meant a great deal to you."

"She meant everything to me."

Looking into the startling vehemence present in the deep green eyes, Tao Feng could do nothing but nod.

Wanting—needing—to break the tension, Gabrielle looked around the room at the six other men who claimed the cots. "Can you tell me about these men?"

Smiling slightly, Tao Feng gestured to the cots. "Minor injuries, for the most part. I’ve given them sedatives to speed the healing process. All except for this one." Walking over to the largest man in the tent, the healer pulled back the fur covering, exposing a leg very near to being gangrenous. "He broke it falling from a horse. I’ve tried very hard to save the leg, but it doesn’t look like I am going to be able to. Still, I shall keep trying until all hope is lost."

"That’s very admirable."

"And very foolhardy," Tao Feng said, putting the blanket back over the discolored and swollen leg. "For an army healer. But I was trained in the court of Lao Ma, and so can do no less."

Gabrielle cocked her head. "Lao Ma?"

"A very great and wise woman. A mentor, of sorts, to the Conqueror. Or at least she was, at one time. She now rules Chin under the Conqueror’s guidance. It seems the teacher has become the student once again."

"Excuse me for saying so, Tao Feng, but this Lao Ma doesn’t sound like a very great or wise woman if she allows someone like the Conqueror to rule her country, especially from so far away."

Tao Feng held a finger over his own lips. "Words like those are best kept within the safety of your thoughts, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle blanched, realizing, too late, the gravity of her error. Her eyes swept the tent, picturing listening ears and wagging tongues. "Forgive me. I meant no offense."

After a long moment, Tao Feng winked. "No apologies necessary. As for your comment regarding Lao Ma’s wisdom...it is said that there is more than one way to tame a wild beast."

The bard looked back at him, her eyes sorrowful and deadly serious. "And what if the beast is too strong to be tamed?"

The healer’s return glance was one filled with compassion. "Then you must suffer the lesser of two evils. Let it free to do as it wills, or sacrifice it for the good of the masses."

Gabrielle’s eyes lowered to the floor, her heart heavy. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"It is not the time to speak of such things, Gabrielle. Taming beasts is a job best left to those with wisdom greater than ours. Let us instead concentrate on our own small parts to play in this drama, yes?"

When the bard finally nodded, Tao Feng smiled. "You are a strong one. I can sense that." He turned. "Bandages are in this basket. Herbs are there. Other supplies over there. I shall entrust these men into your tender care. If you have need of anything at all, ask the nearest soldier to fetch me."

"I...can do that. Thank you, Tao Feng."

The older man bowed deeply. "Thank you, Gabrielle."

With a final smile, he ducked out of the tent.

Then he ducked back in again, his seamed face tense. "The Conqueror comes. We must wake the men."

"What?"

"She comes. The men must be awakened and sent back to their units. Quickly. We have very little time." Tao Feng started toward the nearest injured soldier.

"Wait. These men are injured. Why must we wake them up? What’s going on?"

Suppressing a sigh, the healer turned to face Gabrielle. "If these men are found within this tent, they will be executed. The Conqueror has no use for injured soldiers in her army. If they cannot fight, they will die."

"But that’s..." Gabrielle’s voice trailed off as she remembered. Remembered her own encounter with a Xena changed by the threat of the Horde against an Athenian outpost. Remembered Xena’s own orders to withhold food and water from the most injured of the men. Remembered her further orders to get those able to fight out of bed and back to their posts.

This is war, Gabrielle. What were you expecting? Glamour?

There are no good choices, only lesser degrees of evil.

What are we gonna do, Xena?

Do? We’re gonna kill ‘em all!

You know hatred, but you’ve never given into it. You don’t know how much I love...that.

"Oh, Xena," she whispered, eyes bright with tears, "who’s there to stop you this time?"

Tao Feng straightened, then looked at the young woman curiously. "Excuse me?"

Gabrielle flushed. "It’s...nothing." She breathed in deeply, then let it out slowly. "Tell me what to do."

Reaching into one of the sacks, Tao Feng came up with several herb bundles, which he proceeded to break apart, crush between his fingers, and place in a large bowl. Then he added a generous amount of water from one skin, stirring the concoction thoroughly.

"What’s that?" Gabrielle asked, face screwed in reaction to the bitter scent of the brew.

"A mixture of pain killers and stimulants. Normally, a dangerous combination. But I fear we have very little choice at the moment. Wake the men and feed it to them. I will call in some soldiers to escort their fellows back to the lines. Then I must make my way to the other tents in the camp. Can you handle this alone?"

After a moment, the bard accepted the bowl, nodding. "It’s not something I’d prefer to be doing, but if there isn’t any alternative..."

"There is none. As I have said, either they leave this tent, or they die."

"Then I’ll do what needs to be done."

Tao Feng smiled. "Your friend was very wise for putting her trust in you, Gabrielle of Britannia. Good luck to you." With a final bow, he was gone from the tent.

Sighing and tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear, Gabrielle went to wake the first of the men.

*******

The Conqueror sat erect upon her chestnut stallion looking every inch the leader she was, her black hair and deep purple cape blowing loose in the fitful gusts of wind. Callisto rode off to her left and Marcus, with three of the Royal Guard in tow, trailed them both on the right.

The Commander of her army, Dagnine, trotted up to the group, his weapons and armor hastily donned. He saluted her with a clenched fist to his chest. "Majesty!"

She nodded slightly. "Dagnine."

Perplexed with the sudden and unexpected company, the General looked at the others in the group. Receiving no answers, save for a truly evil smile on the lips of Callisto, he looked back at the Conqueror. "How may I assist you today, Majesty?"

Xena merely looked at him.

Dagnine looked back, resisting the urge to fidget.

Callisto, under no such constraints, finally leaned forward in her saddle. "The Conqueror wants to inspect her troops, you moron. Did you think she just felt like taking a stroll along the grounds?"

"Oh. Ohhhhhhh. The troops! Of course!"

"A few blocks short of a castle, isn’t he," Callisto said, sotto voce. "Poor darling."

Shooting Callisto a glare, Dagnine wheeled his horse around and started back toward the massive army standing before him.

The Conqueror kneed her horse into a quick canter and soon passed the hapless General with hardly a glance. Callisto had been after her for years to replace Dagnine. Xena suspected it was because he couldn’t be bought. The Conqueror had in her possession the only prize Dagnine ever lusted after—the Ixion Stone. Furthermore, the soldier knew she had it, though not where she kept it.

It was an obsession that would keep him in her service until she either took his life or gave him his prize.

The first option was far more likely.

He had proven his loyalty by defending her against what he thought to be an attack by Borias. And if he wasn’t the brightest candle in the chandelier, he was an excellent fighter; strong and skilled with a variety of different weapons.

Nothing more was really needed, for the Conqueror herself always led her armies into battle. That was something that those who did not know her did not expect. The ruler of half the world didn’t just don weapons and armor and go trotting off into bloody battles for sport.

Unless that ruler was Xena. Who, alone, was better than any fifty in her army, or any other’s for that matter. When riding at the head of an army, the Conqueror inspired her troops. And that type of inspiration couldn’t be bought while sitting on a throne, no matter how many dinars one had to spend.

With an expressionless face and a regal carriage, the Conqueror nudged her horse to a stop before the first squadron of soldiers, all standing ramrod straight, their faces blank as their leader’s.

Rows upon rows of archers and pikesmen, swordsmen and catapulters, mace-wielders and standard-bearers, horsemen and siege-engine infantry, stood at a statue’s attention before the impassive gaze of the Conqueror.

Hundreds of pennants, each bearing the colors and crest of the Keeper of Greece, snapped smartly to and fro in the ever freshening breeze. It was the only sound that could be heard on the grounds.

Xena’s arctic eyes swept over the field of warriors, keeping the fierce pride in her heart from showing on her face. These were her men, bought and paid for with the blood of their brethren, brought to heel by her might and majesty, owing their lives, their very breath, to her alone.

Her serenity was rudely interrupted as Dagnine brought his panting horse to a stop before her. He, too, surveyed the spectacle before him, his own face shining with pride. "As expected, Majesty. Your army is ready to die at your command."

Xena turned her head slowly, capturing his gaze with her own. "They’d just better be ready to kill at my command, Dagnine. Dying is a gift I leave to my enemies."

The General paled. "Of...of course, Majesty. That is what I meant to say."

Behind them both, Callisto snorted.

With a soft noise, the Conqueror descended into the ranks of her troops.

********

"She’s almost here," Karreleus whispered to the young man at his left, his own arm wrapped tightly about the lad’s waist. "Can you stand by yerself?"

"I...I’m not sure." Potus was white-faced and trembling, as much from the pain as the fact that the Conqueror of Greece was no more than fifty feet away from him and heading his way.

"You’d better get sure pretty quick, boy. Cause standin’ ain’t gonna be an option anymore if you ain’t."

"Lemme go then," Potus hissed.

The older soldier did as he was asked, just managing to catch Potus as the young man slumped down toward the ground the minute his supporting arm was removed. "Tartarus blasted piece of..." His words trailed off as a very familiar horse suddenly filled his vision. He straightened as if struck by lightening, somehow managing to bring Potus up with him as well.

"M...M...Majesty."

"Karreleus."

The Conqueror’s deep, husky voice burred through the old campaigner’s senses, jamming his spine even straighter as a hot flush swept down from his face and up from the toes of his boots to meet somewhere in the middle of his belly.

Having the Conqueror remember one’s name was both a blessing and a curse.

For the life of him, Karreleus couldn’t figure out which one it was in this case.

"I know the Conqueror wants her men to support one another, but this is taking it a bit too far, don’t you think?" Callisto asked, eyeing the two men and grinning evilly.

In pure reflex, Karreleus pulled his arm away as if burnt, leaving Potus to sink, or swim, on his own.

The younger man slumped again, but managed to catch himself before pitching forward onto the ground. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he slowly pulled himself up to stand as straight as he could manage, with, in truth, wasn’t very straight at all.

Callisto pouted at the display. "The poor dear’s hurt! I’ve got just the cure for that."

Reaching back, the blonde unsheathed her sword and swung it in a deadly arc which headed directly for the swaying man’s neck.

Potus closed his eyes and prayed to the gods, hoping that his death wouldn’t be too painful.

Cat-quick, another length of bladed steel met Callisto’s sword, blocking the killing blow and forcing the weapon away from the young man’s exposed neck.

"Put it away, Callisto," the Conqueror growled, not even bothering to look at her Second.

"Oh, Xena. Must you always take the fun out of everything?"

Pointedly ignoring the woman, Xena brought her own sword forward, its sharp blade easily parting Potus’ hastily mended shirt to expose the dull white bandage beneath. A split second later, the bandage was also history, leaving the man’s stitched chest exposed to her view.

"How did this happen?"

Potus gulped. "I...tripped...Majesty."

"He’s lying, Xena! Let me kill him for you. Please?"

The young man bit back a shriek of pain as the cool steel of the Conqueror’s sword played across the stitches of his wound.

"And do you trip often?"

"No, Majesty," he managed to get out from between clenched teeth.

"Xe-na..."

"You wouldn’t, by any chance, be lying to me, would you?" Xena subtly increased the pressure of her sword against Potus’ thick chest.

"No, Majesty!!!" He couldn’t help the scream that came out, but though his legs buckled, he managed to stay on his feet, sweat liberally coating his face and exposed chest.

Smiling slightly, Xena removed her sword. "I may have use for a man who can hold to his story under...adverse...conditions. Report to the Captain of my Royal Guard. Perhaps he can cure you of your unfortunate clumsiness."

To the end of his life, Potus never knew which god gave him the strength to execute a bow that day, but every day thereafter, he prayed to each and every one in gratitude for their timely gift.

Before anyone could say that they even saw the Conqueror’s hand move, a whining noise was heard and Pentres was on his back, his dead eyes open to the blinding sun and half of a chakram sticking out of his lifeless chest.

Callisto’s delighted laughter pierced the still air.

"Tell me, Karreleus," Xena said conversationally, "is there a reason why my edict banning alcohol in camp seems to have been ignored by the men in your squadron?"

Swallowing hard, Karreleus bowed his head, looking down at his boots. "No reason, Majesty."

Callisto leaned forward in her saddle once again, cupping her hand to one ear. "Do speak up, you old goat. I don’t think the Conqueror heard you signing your own death warrant. I know I didn’t."

Karreleus’ head snapped up as his bearing straightened. "I said, ‘No reason, Majesty’."

The blonde woman grinned. "That’s what I thought you said, dear." Straightening, she turned to Xena. "Can I at least kill this one?"

The remote look returned to the Conqueror’s eyes and, with a flick of her hand, she continued on down the lines of her troops.

Behind her, Callisto shrieked in triumph.

*******

Gabrielle knelt next to the deeply unconscious soldier, gently stroking his fine, black hair. In her soft, beautiful voice, she told him tales of the Xena she knew, the one who had changed into a force for the greater good through a timely intervention with a great hero.

She didn’t use her lover’s name, however. That was a risk she was, at that point, unwilling to take.

Regardless, they were her best stories, filled with inspiration and examples of how love and the simple desire to do good could overcome the darkest forces of evil.

The man, of course, didn’t respond, but the sound of her own voice kept Gabrielle from imagining what horrors lurked outside of the healer’s tent, where ominous silence reigned.

She stopped speaking a short while later, to cool the parched dryness from her throat with some water from a skin. It was then that she heard the sound of horses, coming closer before stopping directly in front of the tent. The waterskin dropped unnoticed from her hand as she wiped the droplets from her lips, her heart pounding in a curious mixture of anticipation and abject terror.

She could feel Xena’s presence through the fabric of the tent. Could almost smell her on the breeze; that combination of horse and sweat and leather so evocative to her senses. She gripped the cot where the soldier lay, her hand white-knuckled with tension.

The annoyed wicker of a horse, the settling of armor, the soft whoosh of a tent flap opening, and she was there, all bright armor and weapons and surreal magnetism.

Gabrielle’s throat was suddenly dry again as she stared upwards, her gaze captured by the clear blue eyes she had spent a virtual lifetime staring into, only to now find a stranger looking back. Her heart increased its rhythm as her stomach twisted inside her.

It was one thing to merely imagine meeting this woman whose cold, remote exterior completely overshadowed any evidence of the warm, caring, compassionate person Gabrielle knew lay hidden far beneath.

It was quite another to stand face to face with the contradictions themselves, seeing the differences and the sameness as if from the very pinnacle of Mount Olympus itself, though skewed in some very fundamental way.

She felt herself grow dizzy, but fought it off with a great strength of will that she’d nurtured over the years.

Entering the cool dimness of the tent, Xena’s glance fell upon a small, golden-haired woman crouched by the side of an occupied cot. Her beautiful jade eyes caught and held the Conqueror’s, searching.

Xena picked the woman for an Amazon at first glance, easily spotting the fluid muscularity beneath the concealment of her peasant clothing. Strangely enough, however, she didn’t feel the spark of anger that usually accompanied the meeting of an Amazon warrior.

Instead, the Conqueror caught something good and open and gentle in the frank, unblinking gaze.

If her heart had been less successfully buried beneath entire mountain ranges of black hatred, she would have seen it for what it truly was.

Love.

Gabrielle felt herself pulled to her feet by the power of Xena’s close presence. She stood before her lover-turned-stranger stolidly, determined not to let her fear get the best of her.

Seeing that she would have to be the one to break the impasse, the bard allowed a smile to break forth across her face. "Um, hello." She stopped for a moment, having no idea how this Xena desired to be addressed. "I guess you’re wondering who I am and why I’m here."

The Conqueror’s face remained impassive. If she was offended by the woman’s lack of an honorific, she didn’t show it.

Gabrielle cleared her throat. "Well, in case you were—wondering, that is—my name is," she swallowed, "Gabrielle. I’m a healer."

An eyebrow rose.

"I really am," the bard hastened to explain. "I happened to be wandering by when a young man was injured in camp. I stitched him up and Tao Feng, your healer, signed me up." She finished the last with a bright smile.

Which faded quickly as the Conqueror’s sword found itself just under the bard’s chin.

So great was her trust in Xena, however, that she didn’t even blink; instead keeping her eyes steady upon the narrowed blue of her tormentor.

"Don’t dig your grave deeper by continuing your lies to me, Amazon. Your swift death can become a very slow one in a heartbeat."

"There’s no need to kill me," Gabrielle replied, using the most soothing voice she could manage under the somewhat less than perfect circumstances. "I haven’t done anything wrong."

"You managed to infiltrate an armed camp filled with several thousand soldiers."

Gabrielle flushed slightly. "Well, there is that." She forgot herself for a second and grinned up at the woman who was, and was not, her partner. "What did you think of my technique? First class spy material?"

The sword pressed closer against the tender flesh of her neck, causing her to remember quickly.

"That was a joke."

The Conqueror only just managed to keep her utter bewilderment from showing on her face as she regarded Gabrielle. That a woman, seeming no more than a girl in reality, could stand with her neck pressed against the tip of her sword while smiling and telling jokes like she was talking to her dearest friend and not the Conqueror of Greece was perplexing in the extreme. Was she a simple idiot, or more clever than the foxes which sometimes ran across the Conqueror’s lands?

One look into the woman’s bright green eyes quashed the first possibility quite effectively. They were brimming with intelligence and a cheerful, though gentle, fire that left Xena, a woman used to such intelligence being used as a weapon against her, feeling even more perplexed.

It wasn’t a state she found herself comfortable being in.

Reading the subtle movements in the Conqueror’s body that told her she was quickly running out of time, Gabrielle kicked her story into high gear. "It’s kind of hard to infiltrate a camp when the soldiers invite you in," she started off. "And they did invite me. In a manner of speaking."

True to form, the bard’s words wove their magic around Xena, pulling in the most feared and dangerous woman in the world. "Go on."

"It’s like I said. I was walking along the very edge of your camp when I saw a young man meet his fate at the wrong end of a sword. It was an accident, but when I saw that the other soldiers were just standing around staring at him, well I just couldn’t walk away."

"So you helped."

Gabrielle grinned. "That’s right! Of course, Karreleus didn’t want me there at first. Thought I was a cook or something. But when I grabbed some thread and started stitching the man up, I guess I convinced him pretty quickly. He led me to this tent, where I met Tao Feng, and the rest is history."

"Karreleus, so, the young man with the repaired chest wound. Your work?"

"Yes."

After a moment, Xena nodded and lowered her sword. "Impressive."

The corners of the bard’s eyes crinkled as her smile broadened in reflexive happiness. "Thanks!"

The sword came up again. "You still haven’t explained why an Amazon of such obvious and needed skills is ‘conveniently’ found wandering so close to my camp."

Forgive me, Artemis. "I’m not an Amazon."

The corner of her mouth curling into a smirk, Xena used her weapon to slice through the bard’s simple peasant blouse, parting it down the middle. Then she used the tip of her sword to slip the damaged material off of Gabrielle’s shoulders. "Your body speaks a truth your tongue denies," she countered, her eyes lingering on the exposed, muscled abdomen and arms before coming to rest on the young woman’s generous breasts and remaining there for several heartbeats.

Gabrielle resisted the urge to cover herself, instead standing proudly before the Conqueror’s inspection. "Not every strong woman in the world is an Amazon," she returned, staring pointedly at Xena.

Xena’s eyes narrowed once again. There was more to the woman’s seemingly innocent and logical words than was evident at first blush. Just how much more, the Conqueror didn’t know, and that made her just the smallest bit uneasy. "Perhaps," she said, keeping her sword steady. "But many are."

"I’m not one of them."

"And I am supposed to believe this story based on what? Your word?"

"It’d do for a start, yes."

Xena snorted. "Then you take me for a fool."

"Hardly, Xena. You may be many things, but a fool isn’t one of them."

The sword came up to Gabrielle’s neck again. "Very few have called me by my given name and lived to tell the tale."

The bard lifted her chin. "Than I’m happy to be counted among the favored."

"You presume a great deal, Amazon," the Conqueror snarled.

The bard sighed. "Are we back to this again? I told you, I’m not an Amazon. I’m just a woman who happened to be in the right place at the right time and was able to help someone who needed the skills I could provide. There’s no sinister motive here. I’m not a spy and I’m not a killer. In fact," her eyes blazed with pride, "I’ve never taken a life. And I don’t intend on starting now."

Xena stared down at the young woman from her position of dominance, looking deep into Gabrielle’s eyes and trying to divine her thoughts, her motivations. She appeared an open scroll, ripe for the plucking. But weren’t those the very stories which had so much more written between the lines than could be read at first glance?

The bard’s gaze was guileless, and that made Xena, a woman who had spent nearly half her life sniffing out falsehoods lest they cost her her life, acutely wary.

But at the same time, she, beyond all bounds of good sense, found herself believing the woman. If, on nothing else, the seemingly outlandish statement that she had never taken a life.

Lowering her sword and switching it to her left hand, the Conqueror stepped forward, closing the small space between them, and used her right hand to cup Gabrielle’s chin, her callused thumb playing over the silken softness of the other woman’s lips. "Who are you?" she asked, softly, near to being lost in the warmth and softness of the face in her hand.

Xena’s gesture wasn’t cruel; nor was it loving. But Gabrielle couldn’t keep her body from responding to the caress, it being something her Xena had done on occasions too numerous to count. She swallowed hard to prevent her natural reaction of sinking into the touch as she had so many times before. "I’d like to be a friend," she murmured finally against the gentle pressure of Xena’s finger.

"I have no need for friends," the Conqueror replied, her thumb still traveling back and forth against the smaller woman’s full lips.

"Maybe not, but I’d like to be one anyway."

Gabrielle stiffened as the sound of booted feet hitting the ground came through the thin fabric of the tent. Callisto’s sing-song voice followed quickly behind. "Xena, dear, are you defiling corpses in there? We have an inspection to resume, in case you’d forgotten."

Xena continued to stare into Gabrielle’s eyes as her thumb played almost absently against the younger woman’s mouth. "Gather Marcus and his men and go back to the castle. I’ll meet you there shortly."

The bard stiffened further as a slim hand appeared through a seam, grabbing the fabric as if to part the flaps. "Oh goody! Now I know you’re doing something fun," Callisto said.

"Get back to the castle, Callisto."

The hand stayed where it was for a long moment before it was finally removed. A deep sigh followed. "Fine. Be that way. I suppose I’ll just have to make some corpses of my own to have fun with."

Then she was gone, leaving Gabrielle to breathe more or less freely again. She looked up, but the cold remoteness had returned to Xena’s eyes, turning her into the Conqueror once again.

Dropping her hand from the bard’s face, Xena turned to look at the lone remaining soldier still deeply unconscious on his cot. She took in the high color to the otherwise pale face and the sheen of sweat liberally coating his half-clothed body. With the point of her sword, she lifted the heavy fur covering, sparing little more than a glance to the grossly infected leg before lowering the fur once again.

"Tao Feng thinks his leg can be saved," Gabrielle chanced to say.

"Tao Feng fools only himself."

"How do you know?"

Xena looked back at her briefly. "Because I do." Turning away again, the Conqueror hefted her sword, ready to drive it through the downed man’s heart.

Knowing she didn’t have the speed or strength needed to halt the blow, Gabrielle did the only thing she could. She flung herself over the soldier and screamed.

Miraculously, Xena was able to stop herself a mere hairsbreadth away from skewering two bodies where only one had lain before. Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in anger. Reaching down, she grabbed the back of Gabrielle’s torn blouse and pulled the smaller woman away, shaking her as one would a rag doll. "What are you doing?!"

"You can’t kill this man."

The Conqueror released her prize, tossing her toward the center of the tent. "Watch me."

"No!"

Lowering her sword again, Xena did a slow turn back toward the woman who was just scrambling back up to her feet. "No?"

"What has he done that deserves an execution?"

"He is of no use to me."

"Because he can’t fight?" Gabrielle asked, incredulity coloring her tones.

"Exactly."

The bard stepped as close to the Conqueror as she felt she could. "Xena, this is a man, not a broken sword."

"He is a warrior who cannot fight. To me, a liability."

Gabrielle’s eyes grew both angry and sad. "And what about his family? Is he a ‘liability’ to them too?"

Xena didn’t hesitate. "Yes."

"I don’t believe you."

"I don’t recall asking for your belief. Or your permission." The Conqueror pushed Gabrielle away again, though this time, more gently. Then she hefted her sword, grasped the pommel in both hands, and thrust downward in a smooth stroke, piercing the soldier’s heart and killing him instantly.

"By the gods," Gabrielle breathed, repulsed beyond comprehension at the act she had just witnessed.

After wiping the blood from her sword, Xena reached under the furs and yanked the soldier’s coin purse from beneath the mattress. Turning, she tossed the purse, heavily laden with dinars, to the bard. "Find a runner and see that this gets to his family. Tell them he died with honor. Then see to it that he receives a proper burial."

Gabrielle looked from the purse up into the emotionless eyes of the Conqueror of Greece, her own eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Did you even know his name?"

Ever after, the bard swore that the tiniest kernel of sadness entered the steel blue of Xena’s eyes, then was gone as a candle’s flame to a gentle breath. "His name was Samos. He was one of my best cavalry-men."

And without another word, the Conqueror turned and was gone, leaving a heartbroken Gabrielle behind.

*******

The breeze, cooler now with evening’s coming, blew in through the open window of the Conqueror’s study, lifting the hair from her brow and settling it back haphazardly. The scrolls before her rustled slightly and she held them down with an annoyed flick of the hand, squinting as the torches’ guttering light cast some of the words into shadow. Her body chilled with slowly drying sweat, sprung forth by a spirited sparring match with some of her Royal Guard. And, of course, Callisto, who never could turn down a chance to cross swords with Xena in any reality.

The scrolls had arrived that day, brought by courier, and were from the many spies she had in Rome and its provinces. Her quick eyes scanned the text, finding nothing unexpected in the missives.

Caesar had yet to declare himself Emperor, but the rumor was on the lips of, it seemed, every citizen in the country. The Senators were getting restless and there was some talk of a revolt, but nothing so well-staged that it reached her ears.

A dark smile spread her lips as she read of Caesar’s sending of Brutus and several legions across the sea to Gaul to quell a small uprising there. Brutus was, without a doubt, Caesar’s best general. Her enemy’s army was much weaker without him at the helm. Why Caesar would choose to send him to a far away nothing of a country while Greece stood, poised to strike, was a puzzle sure to occupy many days’ thought.

"Cocky bastard," she muttered, reaching for the next scroll in the pile.

"Who are we talking about this time?" Callisto asked from her place by the window, reclining on one of the couches and twirling a tangled lock of her hair. "No, no, let me guess." Grinning evilly, she sat up. "He’s about this tall, has an absolutely atrocious hairstyle, and enjoys putting Warrior Princesses up on crosses."

The Conqueror shot Callisto a look before returning to the scroll she was reading.

Callisto threw back her head and laughed. "Oh Xena, Xena, Xena. It’s always about Caesar, isn’t it? Caesar this. Caesar that. Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you still had a little thing going for him."

Any reply Xena might have made was halted as her hyper-acute hearing picked up an unusual noise borne in on the evening’s cool breeze. Cocking her head alertly, she waited.

The sound was repeated. And then again, growing louder.

"What?" Callisto asked, well used to the expression.

The Conqueror slowly rose to her feet, then crossed the room to look out of the window. All seemed normal, but her instincts continued to raise an alarm her body couldn’t ignore.

"Trouble," she muttered, turning from the window and crossing to the large door which sealed her rooms off from prying eyes.

Callisto jumped up from the couch, clapping her hands. "Goody!"

Grabbing the handle, Xena flung the door open, her eyes lasering into those of one of her door-guards. Before she could open her mouth to speak, there was a commotion in the hall and a young, very badly out of breath runner came into her view, almost collapsing from exhaustion. "Trouble!" he gasped out, trying to bow and almost falling to the floor for his efforts.

"That’s obvious, you insignificant little worm," Callisto snarled, grabbing the runner by the front of his uniform and pulling him up so that he was inches away from her face. "What kind of trouble?"

The runner took tortured breaths, his overworked lungs near to bursting with the effort of pulling air in and letting it go.

Callisto shook him savagely. "Speak up, ingrate, or I’ll feed your little body to Cerebus myself!"

"P - P - Persians!"

Xena turned quickly, hand on the pommel of her sword. "Where."

"In the camp! Took - took over some Egyptian ships at sea! Came in through the - the harbor!"

"And the harbormaster let them through?" The man would die, quite slowly, and by her own hand, she vowed.

"No! Yes! Majesty! They were disguised as Egyptians! He didn’t know!"

"Let him go, Callisto."

Rolling her eyes, the blonde warrior dropped the gasping soldier, then shook the hand which had held him, a look of disgust on her face.

The Conqueror looked down at the runner, her eyes gone silver with anticipation. "Where are these Persians now. Exactly."

The young man finally managed to catch his breath. "Still in the Egyptian camp, Majesty. The small army from Chin came over to assist, and Dagnine said to tell you that he’s sent two squads there as well. He remains behind with the main force to watch for an attack from another direction."

"He actually said that?" Callisto remarked, shaking her head in mock amazement. "You must be mistaken. That incompetent idiot couldn’t find his way out of an outhouse if he had a map."

Bending down, Xena hauled the runner back to his feet. "Go back and tell Dagnine to stay on the alert. Under no circumstances is he to send any more troops unless he hears from me directly. Got it?"

"Yes, Majesty."

"Good. Now go."

Pushing the runner back down the hall, the Conqueror turned once again to her door-guard. "Wake Marcus and have him gather his troops. We have some Persians who need a lesson taught to them."

Callisto’s delighted cackle could be heard throughout the castle.

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #xwp #mature #femslash #fanfiction

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faveficarchive · 5 years

Text

Reality Check

Sequel to Creative License

By Ella Quince

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: PG-13

Synopsis: Xena and Gabrielle start out on their new life together after Darphus buys (kicks) Xena out.

The woodland glade was restored to tranquility in the aftermath of that morning's battle. Only one combatant, and her companion, remained in the arena. Just as well, since there was only one felled log on which to sit and the warrior was in need of a resting place.

"I wish you'd warn me before you start re-enacting my stories, especially the really bloody ones," said Gabrielle, dabbing at the wound on Xena's forehead.

Xena winced as the stinging salve took effect. "This wasn't exactly 'The Gauntlet,' Gabrielle."

"Maybe not," said the bard, swallowing audibly as she wiped away a thin rivulet of blood. "But greed triumphed over honor, delivering your army into the hands of a despicable minion of Ares."

"Oh, Darphus is all right, even if he did force a change of management. And he only whacked me because we couldn't agree on the sale terms. He gets a little aggressive when he's frustrated, which is a useful trait in an up-and-coming warlord."

"Uh, Xena...I'm—I'm not feeling...so good..."

"Oops!" Xena jumped to her feet, catching the swaying bard in her arms. "Here, sit down and put your head between your knees." Rubbing Gabrielle's back, she said, "You're not used to all this blood, are you?"

"No," admitted Gabrielle weakly.

"That's probably why you can tell such gory stories. It doesn't seem real to you."Thank the gods.... Xena smiled fondly at the pale-faced young woman, then leaned down and gently kissed her on the forehead.

"What's that for?"

"A remedy for fainting."

Gabrielle smiled, color returning to her cheeks. "It does seem to help." She sat up with an enthusiastic gleam in her eye. "Maybe we should—"

"I wouldn't want to overdose you," teased Xena.

"Too late for that," replied Gabrielle smugly. "If too much kissing is bad for us, we're going to die young."

"But happy," said Xena cheerfully. "Very happy."

"I'm sorry about your army, though."

"I'm not." The warlord bent down and scooped up the small purse of gold coins Darphus had finally thrown at her feet. It was lighter than the sum she had asked for, but considering he could have killed her instead, it was a generous settlement. "As business ventures go, my army wasn't a resounding success. So it's time to move on and put my skills to better use."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I dunno." She whistled for the chestnut gelding grazing on the meadow grass at the edge of the glade. "We'll just have to see what turns up."

"Now that I think about it, this is going to be fun," said Gabrielle, determined to find some good in their reversal of fortune. "Traveling on the road together, having adventures just like Gabrielle and the Warrior Princess. What more could a bard ask for?"

"Aw, Hades!" hissed Gabrielle, squirming yet again to avoid the pointed rocks that littered the hard ground beneath her. Unfortunately, the chains on her wrists and ankles severely restricted her movement. On top of that, she was hungry and cold... and even just a little scared.

She studied the scruffy trio of men who were bunched around the blazing fire, a fire that was too far away to offer her any warmth. They were deep in furious discussion, but she couldn't make out their words. "What do you think is going to happen to us?" she whispered to the woman lying beside her.

Xena tried to shrug, but her bonds were too tight. With a frustrated sigh, she said, "Well, considering that I don't really have any mortal enemies, he just thinks I do..."

"It could take awhile for him find someone who wants to ransom the Warrior Princess," realized Gabrielle. "Oh, Xena, this is all my fault!"

The warlord shook her head. "No it's not, Gabrielle. These are thugs, so they would have robbed us anyway, then probably killed us if they hadn't recognized me. Besides, it doesn't matter why they attacked — I should have been able to protect you. Some warrior I've turned out to be," she said glumly. "More like a scroll-pusher with delusions of grandeur."

"Xena, you were outnumbered three to one. I thought you were splendid. If there'd only been two of them, you would have won for sure."

"The Warrior Princess can rout an entire army."

"Yes, but she has me as a choreographer. And I'll have you know it took me days to work out that fight scene against the Persians. If the guys who jumped us had made an appointment ahead of time, I could have written one for you too."

And despite their desperate situation, they began to laugh...

"This is a trick, right?"

Startled, Xena looked up to find the burly leader of their captors looming over her. He appeared to be the only one of the men still left in the campsite.

"It was too easy," he said, nervously licking his lips. "You just let us take you, even though there were only three of us. Which means you wanted to be captured." He broke out into a sweat and began to fumble in his pockets for the keys to the locks. "I'm no fool. It just isn't worth the risk. You might not believe this, but I have a wife and children, and I really want to get back to them. Alive, not in pieces."

Xena and Gabrielle exchanged incredulous looks as he jumped back, anxiously waiting for them slip off their chains.

"Please, Xena, don't hold this against me," he pleaded. "According to the bards, you've changed, you're merciful now, right?"

"Uh, yeah," said Xena as she and Gabrielle scrambled to their feet. At a prod from her companion she assumed a dour expression and growled, "But it's a good thing you let us loose, because what I had planned for you..." She trailed off, her brow wrinkling in concentration.

"Whooo, you don't want to know!" interjected Gabrielle quickly, before Xena's lack of imagination became too obvious.

"No! No, I don't!"

"Good save," whispered the warlord as their captor turned heel and ran.

"That's what bards are for," said Gabrielle.

By dawn they were on the road again, walking side by side, with the gelding ambling in their wake. It was, reflected Gabrielle, an eerily familiar scenario, as if she'd stepped into the middle of one of her own tales. Except, of course, that this Xena was much too good-natured to bear any resemblance to a brooding, haunted mass-murdering warlord with a hair-trigger temper and lethal killing skills. Upon further reflection, the bard decided this was probably a good thing....

"Tell me another one," said Xena, still chuckling at the thought of a royal princess who was her mirror image.

"Okay, how about the Callisto trilogy next?"

"Great, that's one of my favorites... only leave out Joxer."

"Hey! I'm in those scenes with him, too, you know."

"Necessary collateral damage," said the warlord, dismissing Gabrielle's protest. "If he'd tried to join my army I would have gutted him on the spot."

"I thought you were a kinder, gentler sort of warlord."

"Not that kind, not that gentle."

"I think you're being very close-minded. Joxer is the comic relief, an advanced literary device only recently introduced into contemporary oral narratives."

"Too advanced for me," said Xena flatly. "Besides, it's not as if his scenes further the plot."

"Everyone's a critic," muttered the bard.

Xena's reply was cut off by the gelding snorting loudly and pulling at the reins in her hands. "Steady, steady," she soothed, trying to calm the horse, who appeared to be on the verge of bolting.

"What's wrong?"

"Beats me."

"I don't suppose it has anything to do with the smoke that's blowing our way?" asked Gabrielle.

Xena sniffed loudly, then frowned. "Damn sinuses...."

Gabrielle stared at her companion. "Just what are the minimum qualifications for a warlord these days?"

"I had scouts, okay?" snapped Xena. "I paid them good money to notice details like that."

"Yes, yes, of course," said Gabrielle tactfully. "So," she continued with a bright smile and a shiver of anticipation, "what do we do now?"

"Do?" Xena looked at her blankly.

"About the fire."

"We go around it," said the warlord.

"Xena, we can't ignore a town that's been set ablaze by a ruthless conqueror! We have to help them fight—" Gabrielle broke off, unsettled by the smirk on the warlord's face. "What?"

"There's no town in that direction. Some farmer is probably burning the stubble in his fields."

"You don't know that for sure," said the bard with a stubborn jut of her chin. "There could be rapacious raiders just over that hill, rampaging in a frenzy of blood lust as they loot and pillage a defenseless farm."

"Wrong time of year for looting farmers. The harvests are over and crops have been taken to market by now. Rapacious blood-lusting raiders are off attacking city granaries instead."

"Oh."

"But it does make a good story," said Xena kindly. Then, with a sudden start, she cocked her head, listening intently. "Someone's coming."

"That's more like it." Gabrielle was suitably gratified by this proof of her companion's keen hearing. Bouncing on her toes, she tried to peek over the hill to see the dangerous assailant who was approaching. Her face fell at the sight of a stoop-shouldered figure in worn clothing.

"Uh, oh," whispered Xena under her breath. "Trouble."

"Really?" The bard's pulse quickened as she studied the peasant who was shuffling his way toward them. "He looks harmless, but obviously you've seen through his disguise. Who is he: a warrior, an assassin, a god in mortal raiments?"

"Hurry up, Gabrielle," said Xena, panic edging her voice as she grabbed the bard's elbow and yanked her into motion. "I've seen that look before. He's a lecherous old man who's going to want to keep us company all the way to Athens."

But it was too late. The man's gait was faster than it looked.

"Hey, don't I know you?" called out the peasant as he fell into step beside them.

"Umm, I don't think so," said Xena, tugging at the gelding to pick up his pace.

"Yeah, yeah, sure I do. You're that warrior princess gal... Xener."

Gabrielle winced. "That's 'Xena.'"

He nodded sagely. "That's what I said, Xener."

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of sad tidings," proclaimed the young bard, assuming a dramatic visage of grief and woe, "but the Warrior Princess is dead, crucified by the Romans."

"She looks like a pretty lively corpse to me," cackled the man. His eyes fixed on the warlord's breastplate. Peering more closely, he added, "You been eating enough lately? You're skinnier than I expected."

"Death will do that to you," muttered Xena through a clenched jaw.

"This is my lucky day," the peasant crowed, his gaze shifting over to Gabrielle's generous bustline. "Two lovely young ladies and me with a full week's pay. So, what's the going rate for the both of you, dearie? And don't try to charge me those big city prices. We're still a half-day's walk from Athens, and I know what's a fair rate around here."

Oh, gods...we're doomed, thought the bard as she began to realize the full magnitude of their peril.

"I wouldn't have held it against you," insisted Gabrielle as they wound their way through the crowded city streets. "One little jab with the sword, not enough to disembowel him, just enough to draw blood and slow him down."

Xena shook her head, her mouth twitching with restrained laughter. "Occupational hazard, my bard. If I attacked every obnoxious man I met while traveling, I'd have to lay waste to half the countryside."

"And this is a problem, why?" prompted Gabrielle. Four hours in the company of a garrulous, doddering lecher had seriously eroded her temper. He had stuck to them with the tenacity of a starving leech until the last mile of their journey, then pinched her on the butt when he left.

"Now do you understand why I loathe Joxer?"

"Touché," said the bard. "I'll kill him off in my next story. That's a promise."

"Remind me to make an offering to Athena," said Xena gratefully. "She's obviously heard my prayers." Then, with a cluck of encouragement, she led her horse off the road and into a tidy stable yard.

A lanky young stablehand stopped pitching hay and ambled over. He nodded a polite greeting to the warlord, but then his eyes sidled to the belly of her horse. "That's a gelding," he said in an accusing tone.

"Uh, yes, the last time I checked he was," agreed Xena.

"But where's Argo?"

She sighed heavily. This was going to be a long day. "I'm not Xena. At least, I'm not that Xena."

The lad guffawed. "Yeah, right. She's okay isn't she?"

"Who, Xena? Actually, she's dead."

"No, Argo," he said stubbornly. His forehead creased with worry. "She didn't get hurt or anything, did she?"

"But I don't have—"

"I've always wanted to meet Argo," he continued anxiously.

"Argo is just fine," said Gabrielle, deciding this wasn't a battle she and Xena could win. "We left her with... Xena's mother."

"Oh, that's okay then." He hoisted their saddlebags and bedrolls off the gelding. "Guess we can count on Cyrene to take good care of her."

Xena stared at him incredulously, but the bard just nodded in agreement. "Yes, Cyrene is pretty reliable."

As the stablehand led the gelding into the barn, Xena shook her head in amazement. "But I don't have a horse named Argo. I don't even have a mother."

"Well, you do now," said Gabrielle wearily, "so just go with it."

"I thought I'd be anonymous in Athens," complained Xena as they carried their packs to the adjacent inn. "Or at least inconspicuous. Surely the citizens of the most cosmopolitan city in Greece can tell the difference between fact and fiction?"

"Now, now, don't judge the entire population based on the reaction of one illiterate stablehand." Gabrielle smiled brightly at the dour-faced innkeeper who was slumped against the doorway of his establishment. "We'd like a room, please."

"Yeah, I figured that. One bed or two?"

Xena blushed at the drawled inquiry, but Gabrielle answered calmly. "One bed is fine."

"About time," muttered the innkeeper, his expression softening slightly.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, nothing." He opened the door for them and pointed to a flight of stairs. "Second room on your left."

"Am I imagining things or did he wink at us?" asked Xena as they climbed up to the second floor.

"I'm sure it was a trick of the light."

"Like Hades it was. I'll bet he also thinks we're Xena and Gabrielle—I mean, that Xena and Gabrielle — and that we... they... are finally lovers."

"Well, we are."

"But we're dead."

"Love endures!" proclaimed the bard as she flung open the door to their room.

They both stared in dismay at the cramped space and its drab furnishings, then took a hesitant step inside. There was barely enough room to take yet another step.

"They need to dust more often," said Xena critically, wiping a finger across a tabletop. She rubbed off the resulting smudge with a shiver of distaste. "At least once a year."

"I've seen worse...somewhere," muttered Gabrielle.

Sitting down on a bed with a decided absence of any bounce, Xena judged the mattress to be slightly softer than a granite slab. "By the way," she asked curiously, "just how many times have you done this?"

The bard suddenly became intently absorbed in unpacking their bedrolls. "Done what?"

"Checked into an inn...with another woman."

Gabrielle shrugged and kept her face averted. "I'm a bard...I travel a lot...meet lots of people...."

"I'm not complaining," said Xena softly. "It's just that," she took a deep breath and confessed, "I was always so busy running my army that I didn't have much time for... socializing. So sometimes I worry that I don't... measure up."

"Oh." When the young woman turned around, there were tears running down her cheeks. "Xena, I fell in love with you the day you rode into Potidea, and you've been worth every minute of the years I've waited for you. No one has ever made me feel as wonderful, or as beautiful, as you do."

"Oh." The warrior blinked, then cleared her throat, but no words came out. So she pulled the bard down onto her lap and enveloped her in a fierce hug.

Her face buried against Xena's chest, Gabrielle whispered, "But if you're still worried, we could get in some practice before lunch."

Not many patrons were left in the common room by the time the two women wandered downstairs again.

"There's plenty of food," yelled the innkeeper from the depths of the kitchen, "as long as you want stew."

"Stew?" said the warlord under her breath. "It smells more like dirty laundry,"

"Hush, Xena." Gabrielle mustered a polite smile and called back, "Stew will be fine!"

"Delius was here," Xena read off the top of the trestle table in the middle of the room. As they settled onto a low bench that wobbled ominously, she continued her perusal of the words etched into the wooden surface. "Fiscus loves Antonio...Gratius has a twelve-inch—"

"Here ya go!" barked out a busty woman who emerged from the kitchen with a tray of food balanced on her hands. Then her eyes fixed on the leather-clad warlord. "Oh my!" Setting two bowls down in front of her customers, the waitress leaned over at a strategic and obviously well-practiced angle that displayed her breasts as if they were a special on that day's menu. "You're Xena, the Warrior Princess, aren't you?"

Xena smiled broadly. "Why, yes—"

"Yes, there's a strong resemblance," interjected Gabrielle. "How sweet of you to notice. But hadn't you heard? The Warrior Princess is dead." Leaning closer to her companion, she muttered, "Or she certainly will be soon."

"Yup, dead," said the warlord with sudden conviction. "Nailed to a cross, they say. Nasty way to go, but very thorough."

The waitress shuddered, which only served to accentuate her assets. Then she looked at the young bard, coolly measuring her appearance. "Well, you're obviously not Gabrielle. Is she dead, too?"

"Yes," said Gabrielle through gritted teeth. "She died with Xena."

"Oh, that's so sad!"

"What's really sad is this food," said the warlord, hastily dropping her spoon after just one taste.

"Don't you worry, I can fix you something very special," gushed the waitress.

"We wouldn't dream of putting you to that kind of trouble," said Gabrielle quickly and firmly. "We'll pick up something to eat at the marketplace instead. Now!" she said, prodding Xena into leaving before the waitress could offer any more of her services.

As they headed out the door, Xena spat out a knot of gristle that had lodged between her teeth. "We really should move to another inn."

"Yeah, we probably should," agreed Gabrielle reluctantly, "only this place is so convenient. It's near the city gate and the stables and even the markets."

"But—" The warlord broke off her protest; her blue eyes lit up, fired by a sudden spark of inspiration. "Why so it is, my bard, so it is..."

"One dinar."

Gabrielle nodded and handed over a coin. As she turned away from the stall, she saw the horrified look on Xena's face. "What?"

"Gabrielle! You just paid three times the market rate for that apple! I thought you knew how to bargain."

"Excuse me, Destroyer of Nations, but I'm a bard, remember? I write fiction."

Behind them, the fruit vendor was staring at the warlord, running his eyes from her leather boots up and up to the raven-dark tresses of her hair. "Destroyer of... You're Xena, the Warrior Princess!" he yelped.

"Xena's dead," said the warlord automatically.

"But you look just like her!"

"No, no she doesn't," cried out Gabrielle, assuming a visage of obvious dismay. "You've made a mistake, a dreadful mistake. It's just a... a strange coincidence, that's all."

Startled by Gabrielle's very unconvincing denial, Xena decided the better part of valor lay in letting the bard play out this scene on her own. Setting her mouth in a grim line, the warlord maintained a steadfast silence.

"Why, if this woman were Xena," said Gabrielle, "do you think for one minute she would let you live after cheating me out of a full dinar for that mealy apple?"

Ah — that's my cue, realized the warlord. "Like the little woman said, I'm not Xena." And she let her hand drift onto the pommel of her sword.

The vendor swallowed hard. "No, not Xena... how silly of me..." Taking a deep breath, he said, "Uh, by the way, you forgot your other two apples. And here, have a pear as well. They're very tasty this time of year."

Gabrielle broke into a beatific smile. "Why, thank you — you're very kind."

As they strolled away, munching on fruit, Xena said, "And I thought you said you couldn't bargain."

"That wasn't really bargaining. It was improvisational acting. And for an amateur, you did a pretty good job of picking up your lines."

"It was fun," said Xena thoughtfully. "I haven't had a whole lot of fun in my life." She turned to her companion. "That's one of the things I like about being around you. Even before we met, I figured that you'd just naturally make life more interesting. It was one of the reasons I had you abducted."

"Really?" Gabrielle flushed with pleasure. "Just for that, I'll forgive you for that 'little woman' crack."

One advantage to having such a small room, decided Gabrielle philosophically, was that it could be lit by the single candle stub reluctantly provided by the innkeeper. She sneezed as a cloud of dust tickled her nose. "Guess the maid's been here."

During their absence their packs had been thrown into a corner of the room and the bedspread had been turned down to reveal stained, threadbare sheets.... and a whip coiled neatly on top of a flat pillow.

"What the—!" growled the warlord. Snatching her whip off the bed, she hastily stuffed it back in her saddlebag. "I'd like to get my hands on the bard who's been spreading those damn S&M stories again."

"Yeah... so would I," said Gabrielle, a speculative tone in her voice. At Xena's outraged look, she said, "Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it."

"What is it about you bards and leather?" asked Xena in dismay. "How many times do I have to tell you that armor and weapons are the tools of my trade, not sex toys. I have no intention of using a whip on you."

"That wasn't the scenario I had in mind."

"Oh no, you don't! Whips hurt!"

"Chains?"

Xena fell silent for a moment. "Well...maybe...."

This promising line of discussion was abruptly interrupted by a series of blood-curdling yells and the sound of splintering furniture coming from the room next door, followed by a rhythmic chanting that gathered force until the two women could hear the words, "Toga, toga, toga!" reverberating through the wall.

"Just a wild guess," said the bard, "but I think that's a party we want to avoid."

"And I think it's time I had a small talk with management," said the warlord, striding masterfully out of the room.

Gabrielle shivered. There had been an edge of menace in her companion's voice that the bard had never heard before. As she waited for Xena's return, Gabrielle even felt a twinge of sympathy for the hapless innkeeper. Then the candle guttered out, throwing her into darkness, and the floorboards began to vibrate from the escalating noise of the nascent orgy. "On second thought — Take the village, kill 'em all," the bard muttered as she stumbled her way out of the room and went in search of the warlord.

She found Xena standing alone in the middle of the empty common room.

"Well?" Gabrielle demanded. The dazed smile on Xena's face was starting to worry her. "Did you find the innkeeper? Did you make him give back our money so we can stay somewhere else?"

"Not exactly." Xena's smile broadened. "Actually, I bought the place from him."

"Bought it!" Without even trying, the bard managed a truly impressive dramatic visage of pure horror. "But Xena, this inn is a dump!"

"A dump with a good strategic location, which is why it's stayed in business as long as it has, despite its many shortcomings. All it needs is a good administrator and some first-class entertainment, like a bard, and—"

"...and it could be a roaring success," finished Gabrielle with awe.

"Xena, Athenian Innkeeper," proclaimed the former warlord as she surveyed her new territory. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #pg-13 #femslash #fanfiction #author: ella quince

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faveficarchive · 5 years

Text

I, Conqueror: Part 3

By SwordnQuil

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

That the Persians were uncommonly fierce fighters there was no doubt. In fact, the Conqueror had, at one time, seriously considered forging an alliance of sorts between the two countries on the basis of that fighting skill alone.

But in the end, she wisely rejected the notion. The very thing that made them such ruthless fighters also made them untrustworthy in the extreme. Forging an alliance, no matter how profitable in a militaristic sense, would be giving the Persians a knife to stick in her own back.

And that was not something she would willingly do.

The shouts and screams of dying men easily carried through the breeze to her ears, even over the thunderous sounds of horses flying into the fray. She felt the dark lust that hid in her heart ooze through to the rest of her body, infusing her limbs and muscles with a mystical power all her own.

She grinned fiercely, only feeling truly alive when on a field of battle, the smell of blood and death more ambrosial to her senses than a lover’s kiss could ever be.

Her sword hissed sibilantly from its scabbard, cutting its first bloody swath before the dark Conqueror was even aware she had it in her hand.

Her war-cry sounded over the din of battle, causing many to pause in fear before returning to their killing tasks. She dove willingly into the waters of fury, the ruler of a nation and the harbinger of death all wrapped up in a package of terrible beauty and mesmerizing strength.

Men bowed helplessly beneath the weight of her majesty, one upon another, until corpses lay where men had stood moments before. All seemed as broken toy soldiers discarded by the careless hand of a bored child.

She waded deeper into the conflict, ringed by those who’d kept her favor, changing the tide of the battle and making it hers once again.

The Conqueror chanced to look down after trampling two fallen soldiers beneath the slashing hooves of her horse, and saw the young blonde healer in a battle of her own, taking down men twice her size, one after another, with sweeping blows from an Amazon war staff. As the battle raged past her, Xena looked on, struck by the muscular fluidity displayed by the small woman, the ease of her moves seeming almost a primal dance. "What are you doing?" she heard herself shout atop the din.

Gabrielle looked up at the bloody apparition astride the massive horse, then blinked. The cold, remote Conqueror had become, after a fashion, her Xena once again; the passionate fighter for good. Or, at least, what ‘good’ passed for in this alternate reality. It made her heart ache, feeling at the same time so close, yet so far away, from the woman towering over her, bloody sword in hand. "What does it look like? I’m fighting!" Grunting, she brought another man to his knees, then aided him fully to the ground by a sweeping blow to the side of his head.

"I thought you said you didn’t kill."

"I don’t!"

And indeed there were still signs of life in the bodies crumpled at the bard’s feet. Xena continued to watch, impressed despite herself.

After bringing down yet another opponent, Gabrielle looked back up, eyes widening in horror at the sight of a lance-bearing Persian riding at full gallop toward the broad back of the Conqueror of Greece. "Xena! Behind you!"

Without taking her eyes off the young woman, Xena reached back and grabbed the lance inches from her back. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled her erstwhile attacker off his horse, then skewered him to the bloodied ground with his own weapon. "Thank you," she replied with a short nod.

Gabrielle smiled slightly, trying not to look at the man with a lance through his chest, but happy that she had been in the right place at the right time to help. "You’re welcome."

Any more that might have been said was interrupted by a cheer that rose through the camp, signaling the end of the battle.

Callisto and two other Greek soldiers brought a huge mountain of a man over to the Conqueror. Smiling maliciously, the blonde warrior kicked the man’s legs out from under him, dumping him to his knees on the blood-soaked ground. "Bow before the Conqueror, you pathetic sow," she snarled, kicking at the back of his head until his face met his knees’ fate in the viscous mud. His arms were lashed tightly behind his back, and Xena could easily see the corded tendons of his wrists and forearms as he desperately tried to break his bindings.

With a nod from the Conqueror, one of the soldiers pulled the man’s head off the ground, dragging him back to his knees by the back of his uniform shirt. His face was a harlequin’s mask of mud, bone and gore.

Xena placed the tip of her sword against the Persian’s neck, smiling slightly. "Do you lead these men?" she asked in his own language.

The man’s answer was to redouble his efforts to escape, his teeth bared in a feral snarl.

Callisto kicked him again, landing the inside of one knee squarely against his broad back and tumbling him into the mud again. His body flopped like a beached fish as his struggle continued.

Another nod from Xena, and the Persian was pulled up once again.

"Do you lead these men?"

The sword was again pressed against his throat. A thin stream of blood trailed down his neck to pool in his armor.

From her vantage point somewhat to the rear of the action, Gabrielle was immersed in her own struggle, though in her case, it was internal. A part of her, by far the largest, needed to go forward and try to stop what she was sure was going to be the man’s slow, needless death. But another part was arguing loudly for a strategic retreat. Callisto was less than ten body-lengths away. How the blonde psychopath hadn’t yet spotted her was a question Gabrielle was afraid to ask.

When the Persian soldier was kicked back into the mud and the sounds of his fingers breaking beneath the twisting weight of Callisto’s boot reached her ears, Gabrielle’s mind was made up.

Hefting her staff in a grip filled with purpose, she took a forceful step in the group’s direction, her face stony with determination.

Only to be stopped by yet another fortuitous clasp to her shoulder. She whirled, this time seeing Tao Feng’s seamed, somber face in the moon’s light.

"There are many here who are in need of your help," he said softly.

Gabrielle turned her head in time to see the soldier being pulled up once again, the tendons in his neck standing out in terror and anger. "Yes, I know, but..."

"You can’t help him, Gabrielle. He is the general of a losing army. As such, his life is forfeit." He cocked his head slightly. "Surely you realize this, from your time with your friend?"

Gabrielle turned back toward the old healer, a scowl firmly set on her face. "Of course I realize it. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Nor does it mean that I have to just stand by and pretend it isn’t happening." Her jaw set with determination. "I was able to stop it before." Remembering, again, her time in the Athenian fort.

"You will not be able to stop it now." Tao Feng looked over the small woman’s shoulder.

The soft sound of a bladed weapon being drawn through the air. Then silence.

Gabrielle shuddered, her head still turned away from the scene. "Did what I think happened just happen?"

The healer nodded as the crowed cheered at the sight of a triumphant Callisto holding the severed head of the Persian general high above her own.

"By the gods," Gabrielle whispered, sickened.

Tao Feng looked down at her, his dark, almond eyes sad. "Come. There are still many whose lives are not yet forfeit. Perhaps your skills will save them from the Conqueror’s blade."

Gabrielle wanted to turn around; wanted to imprint upon her memory the vision of yet another senseless death she’d been unable to prevent.

Instead, she pushed that somewhat self-indulgent feeling down deep as it would go and concentrated on following Tao Feng’s narrow back as he picked his way around corpses on his way to the hastily erected healing tent in the rough center of the Egyptian camp.

The scents of pain, fear, and death assaulted her sinuses as Gabrielle stepped through the flap and into the healing tent. Wounded soldiers filled every available surface, lying across cots, makeshift tables, and even in some cases, the muddy ground. Many were screaming in agony. Others were crying piteously to the gods for water. And some lay still as death.

Tao Feng raced among the injured men, providing words of comfort as two other healers did their best to repair the savagery done by the battle’s minions. Directly in front of her, Gabrielle saw a screaming man clutching desperately at a leg which had the broken shaft of a lance pierced right through it. His face was white with agony and his eyes rolled wildly in his head.

Taking in a deep breath, Gabrielle started forward, screwing her brightest smile on her face and calming him slightly with a gentle touch. "I’ve come to help," she said in her most soothing tones. "What’s your name?"

"Z - Zargos," he said, hissing in pain. "Am...am I gonna lose it?"

The bard looked down at the wound which, though gory, appeared to be less life-threatening than at first glance. The lance had managed to pierce the meaty part of the soldier’s thigh, though from her current vantage point, she couldn’t tell if the wood of the spear was pressing against his artery, keeping his blood loss minimal for the moment. She looked back up into the pained eyes of the soldier. "I’ll do my very best to make sure that you don’t."

After a long moment, the man nodded and lay back on the cot, his jaw muscles bunched with the effort to contain his screams.

Gabrielle turned and grabbed the first able-bodied soldier she could find. "You, get me as many water skins as you can rustle up. And some clean bandages too, if you can find any. And some needles and thread from the armor kits."

The soldier looked down at her as if she’d grown a second head.

"Now!" she growled, pushing him in the chest to get him moving.

The push sent the man stumbling from the tent, shaking his head in wonder over having been so easily bullied by a small blonde woman less than half his size. Nevertheless, he went to do her bidding as if the order had come from the Conqueror herself.

After all, it did no good to piss off one’s healer. He might have need of her someday.

Turning to another uninjured soldier, she grabbed the water skin out of his hand just as he was about to put it up to his mouth and doused her own dirty, bloody hands with clean water, scrubbing as best she could. Then she poured the remainder of the water around the wound, flushing the dirt and gore from the site under less than ideal conditions.

Grabbing several bandages from a passing healer, she mopped up the excess water and blood, peering more closely at the injury, squinting in the inadequate lighting.

"You there," she called out to another soldier who had just dropped off his injured mate, "grab that torch and stand over me with it. I need to be able to see, somehow."

The soldier did as he was bade, ambling over, torch in hand, and looking down into the gentle green eyes of the woman who commanded his attention so easily.

With better lighting, she was able to see the full extent of the wound. It looked, by the lance’s very placement, that her worst fears were realized and that the weapon was effectively pressing against the man’s artery, which would, when the lance was removed, spurt blood in magnificent quantities if she wasn’t quick enough to apply the pressure needed.

She looked beneath the soldier’s leg, seeing the spear-point and nearly four inches of haft sticking out from his flesh. Topside, almost a foot of weapon protruded from his leg. Both sides of the lance were covered in dirt and blood, ensuring that, either by push or pull, contamination would go into the wound no matter what she did.

Sighing, she wiped dripping sweat with the back of her wrist, leaving a dirty, bloody smudge behind. "Alright, then. Pulling looks to be the best alternative here." Reaching up, she grabbed the torch from the large soldier’s hand. "I need you to help me. While I lift his leg up, you need to get down there and break off the point of the lance. Then I need you to pull it out of him from the top. Very slowly."

The soldier looked at her, goggle eyed. "You crazy, woman?"

"Not the last time I checked, no. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

After seeing the absolute and utter determination radiating around the woman like an aura, the soldier couldn’t help but nod, swallowing against the bile raising in his throat. "Alright," he croaked. "What do I do?"

"Just break the tip off, close to the leg as you can." She turned to the injured man. "Just take some deep breaths, Zargos. This’ll be over before you know it."

"Th - that’s what th - they all say. Ain’t known it once to happen yet."

Smiling, Gabrielle patted his shoulder with her free hand, then reached down and lifted his leg as high and as gently as she could. She nodded to the soldier, who gripped the bloody lance in his hands and, with great strength, snapped the point off, causing his injured mate to scream.

"It’s ok. It’s ok, Zargos," Gabrielle soothed, handing her torch to another man and grabbing some more clean bandages from the basket which had miraculously appeared by her side. "He’s just going to pull the spear out and then we’ll get you stitched up and you’ll be good as new, alright?"

"Jest get it over with, ok?"

"Ok." She nodded again, and the waiting soldier grasped the top of the spear and began to slowly pull it out of Zargos’ leg.

The injured man passed out before it was fully removed, providing the duo, plus the conscripted torch-bearer, with some much needed relief.

As soon as the weapon came free, Gabrielle pounced on the entrance and exit wounds, pressing the bandages against the man’s leg with as much force as she could manage. White cloth turned red in seconds and the blood leaked through her clenched fingers. "More cloth," she ordered, gratified to see that her request was obeyed without argument.

With a curious tingling in her belly, she realized that she recognized the hands which had suddenly replaced hers on Zargos’ leg, keeping the steady pressure on.

Then, the absolute stillness within the tent came to her ears and she turned her head slowly, to be met with piercing blue eyes from extremely close range. "Xena," she said, a sense of happy relief coursing through her. Her lover’s scent, the same even in this skewed universe, came to her even over the high stench of battle, and she allowed it to soothe her as nothing else ever really could.

She looked around further, seeing that her two helpers appeared ready to pass out, their posture was so rigid.

The Conqueror herself didn’t appear to notice, her keen eyes flicking over the soldier so suddenly in her care. "Get some thread ready for stitching. I’ll keep the pressure on here."

Nodding, Gabrielle stood, stretching cramped arm and back muscles as she did so. She turned to the torch-bearer who stood as a statue, his light frozen high over his head. She moved in to whisper in his ear, well aware that Xena would hear it. "Faint on top of her, and she’ll have you for breakfast."

The frozen soldier blinked once, then relaxed just slightly, the color returning to his face.

"Good boy," Gabrielle grinned, patting his shoulder and walking away to find some thread.

***

Dawn had come to give light to a new day. Inside the healing tent, Gabrielle finished tying off a bandage on the last of the walking wounded. She gave the man her sunniest grin and a pat on his uninjured arm. "Try to take it easy for the next day or so and don’t pull those stitches, alright?"

The soldier, a grizzled old campaigner with more scars on his body than lines on a map, responded to her smile with one of his own. "Thanks. Best stitchin’ job I ever had."

Gabrielle couldn’t help the laugh that came out. "Be sure and tell your friends. Good for business."

"Not our business," he replied, flicking his glance behind her toward where she knew Xena sat, finishing up her own work.

The bard sobered. "Very true."

After a moment, the soldier nodded again in thanks and shuffled from the tent.

Gabrielle yawned and stretched thoroughly, beyond tired after a long day and longer night. Then she turned, eyes set on the raven hair of the Conqueror, who was just finishing up a stitching job of her own on the leg of a young archer.

To the utter amazement of all save the bard, Xena had remained in the tent throughout the entire night, lending her own vast healing skills to those of the other healers and presenting her men with yet another side to the complex woman that she was.

And, in working so closely with her, Gabrielle could almost, almost, forget that this was not her Xena, but rather one who lent her aid for vastly different reasons.

Gabrielle’s Xena was a woman who healed because it was the right thing to do. This Xena used her skills as if she were honing the edge of her own weapon. Because to her, it seemed to Gabrielle, that’s what these men were. Weapons to be tended, not men to be saved.

Fortunately for the bard, she was spared a repeat of the killing of Samos. If any of her men were injured beyond any use to her, the Conqueror didn’t let on. She treated each and every one with the same clinical, remote expression that she used in her daily life as Ruler of Greece.

Gabrielle easily noticed that this Xena was focus personified. Where her Xena used ‘focus’ as a watchword, this Xena used it as her entire reason for being. And anything that would disturb that focus, be it friend, lover --and Gabrielle didn’t want to go there just yet. The thought of Xena in any reality bedding other lovers was something she refrained from dwelling on--, or foe would suffer the consequences, and those by her own hand.

And yet, there were times throughout the night and into the hours of early morning, when both were together, heads bowed, hair intertwining and limbs casually brushing as they stared intently into some wound or other, that the bard found herself forgetting, if just for a moment, that this was not just another job; that when the need for healing was over, they would not stand and retire to their bed together, satisfied with work well done, grateful for the love and support that simmered in the bond they shared between them.

The Conqueror looked up from her task, well aware of the green gaze upon her, and nodded to two of her rigidly standing soldiers. They came quickly and eased their comrade off the bunk and onto his one good leg. The trio bowed in homage to her, then turned and hobbled from the tent.

Rising to her full height, Xena subtly stretched muscles cramped and stiff from hours of forced inactivity and fine-detail work. She looked around the tent, eyeing the injured still abed, then nodded to Tao Feng and his assistants, who bowed formally back.

Finally, her eyes came to rest on the disheveled Gabrielle. "You proved your worth to me today, healer. I’ll allow you to live, as well as to serve. For now."

Before Gabrielle could open her mouth to protest the title, Xena casually picked up the bard’s staff from its resting spot against one side of the tent. "Though one day, you will tell me how a woman who is not an Amazon comes to wield an Amazon war staff." She rolled the weapon in her hands before raising strangely knowing and silver eyes to her newest healer. "With the markings of their Queen etched in it."

Gabrielle flushed, praised the guttering torches’ now feeble light, and just managed to catch the staff as it was tossed to her.

"Until then." The Conqueror’s piercing glance swept through the tent one last time before she turned and left.

The entire enclosure let loose with a blessed sigh of utter relief, none louder, nor more fervently felt, than Gabrielle’s.

***

Stepping out of the tent, Xena took a deep breath of the cool morning air, the scent of battle still borne in on the breeze. A runner brought her horse to her, and she leapt aboard silently, settling herself in the saddle and looking for a moment down at the tent, before wheeling the stallion around and heading back toward the Greek encampment.

It had been a long number of years since she’d last spent her post-battle hours in a field hospice, tending to her men. Then again, it had been just as long since someone had had the temerity to invade her lands, so in a way, she felt justified taking the time away from post-battle inspections and all the rest to spend a few hours seeing that her men were fit for the next battle. She felt it a good return on the investment of her time, and so was well pleased.

She was also well pleased, though she would never say such, with the beautiful, green eyed healer she seemed to have so fortuitously acquired. Though she knew the woman was hiding a very large secret under a bushel basket, the Conqueror was, for the moment, content to allow events to play out as they would. Keen eyes and sharp tongues would follow the blonde’s every move for as long as Xena deemed necessary.

There was also an attraction there, to be sure. One that her battle lust urged her to act upon at the first possible moment.

Then why was she here, riding at full gallop toward her soldiers’ camp, rather than back in her castle, indulging herself in the sumptuous pleasures of her new healer?

Why, indeed, she thought to herself, reining her horse to a sudden stop, halfway between camps. She was the Conqueror of Greece. A woman who was not adverse to taking any number of lovers, willing or non, to her bed for the bliss of carnal release. Everyone within the almost limitless bounds of her Queendom, from the highest ranking of her ambassadors to the lowliest of street-beggars, lived to serve her whim, whatever it might be. What she wanted, she took, the gods be damned, be it land, labor or lover.

And she most definitely wanted the woman who called herself Gabrielle.

"Gabrielle," she whispered to the still-rising sun, pleased with the way the syllables fell from her tongue. "Gabrielle," she said again for good measure, imbuing the word with a primal essence, as she imagined it might sound when she placed her naked and needing body atop the ample charms of the beautiful young woman.

The sound of horse’s hooves beating against the ground interrupted her reverie and she turned a scalding glare toward the approaching rider.

A member of her Royal Guard pulled his horse to a stop beside hers, bowing in the saddle. "Majesty, Marcus begs the honor of your presence in your castle. Two spies were discovered trying to stow away aboard an outbound ship." He took in a deep breath. "Marcus believes they are Roman, Majesty."

All thoughts of erotic pleasures and comely blondes flew from the Conqueror’s mind as her eyes narrowed. "Is he sure?"

"No, Majesty. It is why he begs your assistance in this matter."

"Very well. Let’s go."

And with that, she turned her stallion once again, heading off at best speed back toward her castle and leaving the Royal Guardsman scrambling to follow.

***

Gabrielle walked back toward the middle of the tent, dipping her bloody hands in a bowl of clean water and scrubbing them until her skin pinked with the pressure. From his place near one of the few occupied cots, Tao Feng smiled kindly down at her. "In one night, you managed to save the lives of twenty and more men, and impress the Conqueror while doing so. Quite a persuasive feat for a first effort."

Grinning, the bard playfully tossed the towel she was using to dry her hands into the older man’s chest. "I didn’t do too bad, did I."

"I should say not." He caught another yawn, which she attempted to hind behind an upraised hand. "Come. You deserve some rest. Thanks to you, there are many unoccupied cots. Choose one and try to sleep."

Gabrielle bit off another yawn and shook her head. "No. That’s alright. I’ll help you watch over the injured. They need to be fed, and turned," she yawned again, her eyelids drooping, "and their bandages need to be changed."

She didn’t appear to notice as Tao Feng gently grasped her arm and led her over to one of the cots and pushed her so that she sat down upon it. "I am an old man who does not require as much sleep as I once did. I shall watch over the injured while you rest. Then it will be your turn."

Giving into the inevitable, the bard finally nodded and swung her feet up. "Alright," she mumbled, already halfway to being asleep. "As long as you promise to wake me up."

Covering the sleeping woman with a thick fur, the old healer tenderly brushed a tendril of golden hair from her fair face. "I promise," he whispered, before leaving Gabrielle to her dreams.

***

Callisto strode into the Conqueror’s throne room, her eyes ablaze with fury. "Whichever spineless worm is responsible for forgetting to tell me that there are Roman spies in this castle is going to..." Her voice trailed off as she spied the casually reclining form of the Conqueror upon her throne. "Oh, hello, Xena." Her smile was overly bright as she fingered the hollow of her neck, trying her best to look sweet and innocent, all the while knowing Xena could, at least on that point, read her like a scroll.

Xena didn’t even bother to take her eyes off their study of the two mostly naked men who knelt, arms and legs bound, before her throne. Their bodies were soft and round and sickly pale, their furred chests matted with terror’s sweat. They stank to high heaven, but it was the stench of fear, one which the Conqueror breathed in deeply, and with pleasure.

Marcus took one deferential step toward the large throne, holding a tiny, tightly rolled square of parchment in his hand. "This was retrieved from one of them, Majesty."

Callisto clapped her hands. "Oh, good for you, Marcus. So utterly brave of you to have taken something so huge from the dough twins over there. I bet he fought you for it like a toothless old dog."

"Actually," Marcus stated in his typical humorless style, "I extracted it from his..." The dark man waved the scroll in the general direction of one of the spy’s hind quarters.

Callisto took a step back, her face wrinkled in revulsion. "That is something I could have lived happily without knowing."

As Marcus handed the parchment to his Ruler, a decided twinkle sparkled in his eyes. Xena didn’t bother to disguise the smirk that appeared, briefly, on her lips.

She carefully unrolled the parchment, accompanied by Callisto’s faux retching sounds, and noticed without surprise that it was written in hastily scrawled, and deliberately disguised, Greek.

In it, she found quite accurate accounts of her current troop strength, projected numbers of reinforcements still waiting in the wings, available weaponry, ships, and food supplies, and very little else.

She looked up again, her emotions hidden behind the blank tableau of her face, and slowly crumpled the parchment in one balled fist.

The two men, hastily recruited and very much inept at their jobs, blanched.

"Give to Greece what belongs to Greece. Give to Caesar what is Rome’s." She turned her head slightly, to look at Marcus. "Take their tongues and hands. Return the rest to Caesar, alive and with my compliments."

The two men started to struggle, screaming loudly and blubbering in terror. Marcus bowed and, together with the other members of the Royal Guard he’d brought with him, bustled the struggling men to their feet, ignoring their pleas for mercy. "Your will, Majesty."

"Oh, this I just have to see!" Callisto crowed, striding for the good, a maniacal grin on her face.

"As you were, Callisto," the Conqueror intoned, her voice deathly soft.

"But Xena!"

Xena turned her head, her eyes lancing into her Second’s. "Would you like to join our Roman friends, Callisto?"

The blonde pulled up short. "Come to think of it, it has been a little drafty in the dungeons lately." She shot a coy smile to Xena. "I think I’ll pass this time. Thanks for asking, though."

"Marcus."

Her General halted. "Yes, Majesty?"

"I’m holding you personally responsible for the safe delivery of these spies. Take care not to let them out of your direct sight at any time. Am I understood?"

Marcus bowed deeply. "As you desire, Majesty."

The Conqueror flicked her hand, and Marcus and his guards led the gobbling men to their unfortunate fates.

Perking up, Callisto reversed her direction and headed back toward the Conqueror’s throne, her dark eyes intent upon the crumpled ball of parchment which Xena had thrown down at her feet. As she bent down to retrieve it, her reach was halted by a booted foot crushing the parchment to dust not more than the width of an eyelash from her extended fingers.

The blonde warrior stood up slowly. "What’s the matter, Xe-na?" She cocked her head, smiling brightly. "Don’t you trust me?"

The Conqueror’s eyes narrowed, though she refrained from comment.

Callisto threw back her head and laughed, before meeting Xena’s gaze in a cheerfully insane taunt. "That’s what I love about you, Xena. All fire and no heart." She laughed again, clapping her hands in childish glee. "We make such a wonderful pair, don’t you think?"

Silence was her only answer.

***

Banished to her quarters, Callisto was busy redecorating by smashing priceless treasures against the stone walls of her room. Her piercing screams added greatly to the ambience she was creating with her somewhat unique sense of artistry.

After more than an hour had passed without signs of let-up, a dark figure detached itself from the shadows, stepping into the light and smirking. "Love what you’ve done with the place," came a deep voice underlaced with dark humor.

Recognizing the voice, Callisto turned, her face set in the primal snarl of an enraged beast. "You!" she screamed, running toward the figure, claws extended.

Only to find herself flying back through the air, her chest burning like fire, landing hard against one of the stone walls and crumpling to the floor in a heap.

"You really need to control that temper of yours, my dear. Red is such a bad color on you." A bass chuckle rolled through the decimated room.

Callisto struggled to her feet, wishing more than at any other time since her plan was put into motion, for a return of her godhood, if only to smash the arrogant bastard who stood, hands on hips, smirking down on her, into his component atoms.

Lacking the ability to do that, she settled for an icy stare. "Why are you here," she finally ground out.

"Maybe I just wanted to see how my favorite goddess-turned-mortal was doing?" Dark eyebrows rose in a pitiful attempt at innocence.

Callisto’s smile could have melted the paint off an urn. "Oh you do, do you?" She took in a deep breath. "Horrible!" she shrieked. "I ask for spies, you give me lumps of pig lard!"

The figure shrugged, spreading his hands. "You get what you pay for. You wanted something done cheap and quick."

Callisto bared her teeth again. "I wasn’t talking about a quick fuck against the tavern wall, Ares."

The god of war snickered. "I’m sure you’d know all about those, my dear."

Callisto visibly swallowed her anger. "I’m sorry," she said in an icy voice, "you must have mistaken me for your other girlfriend. You know, the tall, dark one who is turning my plan into a steaming pile of rancid vomit as we speak?!?!?"

Ares pretended to think about it. "I’ve never known her to pay for it, no."

Forgetting her previous lesson, Callisto launched herself at the god of war again, only to be casually tossed back against the same wall in the same heap of tangled and hurting limbs.

She got to her feet more slowly this time, though refusing to give Ares the satisfaction of knowing how badly her body felt. "You failed me, Ares. Caesar won’t bring Brutus’ army back if the spies can’t tell him what Xena’s troop strength is. His idiotic arrogance will cost him this war and our plans for the world right along with it."

Ares shrugged his broad shoulders again. "Spies are a dinar a dozen, my dear. You’ll get your message to Caesar eventually." He looked down at his nails, then buffed them casually against his studded leather vest. "If I were you, though, I’d be worried about a more immediate problem in your midst."

"Do share it with me, Ares, won’t you?"

The dark god smirked. "Well, it’s not very big, annoying as Tartarus, and has the ability to toss your entire plan right out of the window, so to speak."

Callisto scowled. "Stop talking in riddles and get to the point, Ares!"

The smirk deepened. "The point, my dear Callisto, is that you seem to have a bard in your bonnet." The glossy dark head jerked back as Ares laughed at his feeble witticism.

Callisto looked at him blankly for a moment. "A what?"

"Come on, Callisto! Did the removal of your godhood take some of your brain along with it? Short? Blonde? Annoying? Bard? Any of this ringing any bells with you? Hmmm?"

If Ares had been mortal, he would have died on the spot from Callisto’s look alone. "Are you trying to tell me, you overblown excuse for an imbecile, that that meddling bitch is here?! Gabrielle is here?! In this reality?!?"

Ares licked his finger and stroked it downward through the air. "Chalk one up for the blonde." He cocked his head, peering at her closely. "Are you sure you’re not hiding some dark roots under there somewhere?"

A dark smile bloomed on Callisto’s face. "Maybe it isn’t such a bad day after all. First I’ll stake her annoying little bardly parts to the ground over an anthill, then I’ll sew her lips shut, then..."

"Eh, eh, eh. Not so hasty, my dear. The problem with your plan, lovely as it is, is that you’d wind up pissing Xena off quite royally. Seems our little ‘friend’ has already managed to ingratiate herself with the Conqueror."

"That can’t possibly be true. I just left Xena in her throne room and the little bitch was no where in sight. If Xena knew Gabrielle was here, they’d be rolling around like rutting weasels in every room of the castle!"

Ares grinned. "Jealous?"

"Of that little pissant? Hardly."

The grin widened, dark eyes twinkling. "Could it be that in this perfect little world you’ve created, you’ve gotten everything but Xena?"

Callisto matched his smile. "Oh, I’ll have her alright. Chained at the neck and kneeling at my feet like the good little beast she is. And maybe, if she serves me especially well, I’ll let her watch as I have my men take liberties with the annoying little gnat." She giggled girlishly as she rolled her eyes up behind her lids, imagining.

Opening her eyes, she shot a look toward Ares. "Where is the little darling, anyway? I’d think she’d be overjoyed to meet a dear old friend once again, don’t you?"

"Sorry. I can’t do all your work for you, Callisto. Just remember this. She knows who Xena is, but this Xena doesn’t have the faintest idea who Gabrielle is. Other than a woman who just happened to wander into the camp, that is."

Callisto laughed again. "This day is just getting better and better, isn’t it?"

Ares disappeared in a shower of red light, leaving only his smirk behind.

The blonde warrior didn’t even know he had left. "He-ere, bardy, bardy, bardy. We’re going to have such fun together, you and I."

***

"...and so while Hercules was busy tying up all the rest of the Medusa’s tentacles, Iolaus flipped up the back of her ugly gown. Poseidon was so offended by the view, he speared the Medusa on his trident, tossed her up into the sky, and let the townspeople go. And that’s why, if you look up at the sky during a full moon, you’ll always be able to see, well...a full moon!"

Gabrielle finished with a smile, patting the young soldier’s hand as he tried to laugh past the pain in his belly.

A smattering of applause was heard throughout the tent and the bard sketched a bow, her eyes twinkling. "Thank you all. You’ve been a wonderful audience."

"And a somewhat captive one as well," Tao Feng commented, smiling slightly as he entered the tent, having stayed outside to listen to the story so as not to interrupt someone who was obviously a master at her craft.

Gabrielle jumped to her feet, shrugging slightly, but greeting the old healer with a warm smile. "What brings you here, Tao Feng?" Her brows knit low in a faux scowl. "I thought you were supposed to be resting."

"And so I did. That time has passed. There are other matters which must be attended to."

The bard opened her arms, gesturing to the men. "I’ve given baths, changed bandages, passed out food and herbs, even told stories. There really isn’t much more to do for now. Is there?"

"Not for the injured. This is more of a...duty. The partaking of which is mandatory, I’m afraid."

Gabrielle cocked her head. "What kind of duty?" She was suddenly quite sure she wasn’t going to like the answer.

Tao Feng steepled his long fingers in front of his chest. "Once every quarter moon, the Conqueror holds court in her public square. Pronouncements are read; new laws, likewise. She also metes out judgement upon those suspected of crimes against the realm. All citizens of Corinth are required to attend. There are no exceptions to the rule, unless the Conqueror herself grants leave, which she has done for these injured men."

"Well, somebody has to stay behind to help. If you don’t mind, I’d rather it be me. After all, I’m not a citizen, right?"

Truth be known, Gabrielle was quite willing to do anything to avoid attending the Conqueror’s Court. The hard twisting in her guts assured her that she would hear and see things quite possibly beyond her ability to cope with them.

And if her fears panned out, how would she ever face her own soulmate again, provided her mission ended on a successful note? Could she ever look her Xena in the eye without remembering what she’d seen in a Corinthian square?

Tao Feng looked compassionately upon the young woman, easily sensing her fear even from his position halfway across the large tent. He crossed over to her and laid a warm hand on her shoulder. "If there were another way to spare you this, Gabrielle, I would find it. But there is none."

"Please, Tao Feng. I’m sure there are going to be hundreds of people out there. Surely I won’t be missed?" She looked up at him, her green eyes bright with pleading.

"The Conqueror will know."

"But - "

"She will know, Gabrielle. Please. You must come with the rest."

After a long moment, the bard gathered her courage and nodded, praying to any and all gods to put the Conqueror in a magnanimous mood for the event.

***

The area around the Conqueror’s square was teeming with humanity. All the citizens of Corinth were equal on this day; young and old, healthy and infirm, rich and poor. Each was reduced to a simple common denominator: the conquered.

The square itself was ringed by members of the Royal Guard, resplendent in their purple, gold and white formal-dress uniforms. Each carried a long, stout spear whose butt was planted solidly on the ground at their feet.

Five hundred or more soldiers of the main Greek army ringed the throng of attendees, hands to weapons and eyes scanning the milling crowd, ever vigilant. Almost one hundred calvarymen continuously circled the gathering, their height giving them an additional advantage when scanning the crowd for potential trouble.

Quite against her desires, Gabrielle found herself standing at the very front of the remainder of the Greek army, Tao Feng a steady, quiet presence at her left shoulder. Though there were several rows of much taller citizens in front of her, the bard had, much to her chagrin, an unimpeded view of the throne set high atop an ornate marble dais.

Behind and to the left of the throne, a huge gong hung, a large mallet waiting beside it.

After several moments, a huge man, naked except for a linen loincloth that barely covered his anatomy, padded silently out onto the dais, lifted the heavy mallet, and, with a mighty swing, pounded the gong, sending the instrument’s somber reverberations out over the gigantic square and its attendant gathering of citizens.

As if under a spell which sealed their lips, the entire gathering went silent as the last note of the gong faded from the air.

The sound of booted feet stepping forward with firm purpose rang loud in the suddenly silent square. Marcus and Dagnine came into view, followed by a retinue of other high-ranking soldiers, all resplendent in their martial finery.

The gong sounded again, and several huge men, as nearly nude as the gong-striker, came out next, walking two by two. Each held a gigantic plumed fan attached to a long pole tight to his massive chest.

When they reached the front of the podium, the men split ranks to reveal six more men bearing a palanquin upon which the Conqueror of Greece lounged.

The litter was carefully lowered to the ground, and two of the men offered their hands to their Ruler, who accepted them and gracefully rose to her full, imposing height.

Gabrielle quickly brought her hand up to cover her mouth at her first view of a Xena she had never seen before.

Xena the Conqueror.

Ruler of Greece. Ruler of India. Ruler of Egypt. Ruler of Chin.

Ruler of the World.

She shook her head in amazement. Xena looked gorgeous and totally untouchable in her gold, Chin style gown. The vision presented, to Gabrielle, such a contrast between Xena, the absolute ruler, and Xena, the woman who walked the length and breadth of Greece in battle-scarred leathers and worn-through boots; her horse, tack and weapons the only things of worth she owned.

And it hit her for the first time what that curious expression she saw in Xena’s eyes the night before this all started truly meant. There was fear in those amazing eyes, yes. Fear of what her life would have been like had Hercules never turned her onto a truer, better path.

But Gabrielle now knew exactly what that other expression had been within those same eyes.

Desire.

Hard. Glittering. Merciless. Even after five years, that greed, that need to have it all burned within Xena’s soul and was guarded over by a weak and flickering light that struggled to contain the burning passions which blazed night and day without pause.

"Oh, Xena," Gabrielle whispered just barely under her breath. "You didn’t just give up the darkness to find the Greater Good. You gave up the world."

Xena’s keen eyes seared out over the milling crowd. She was well aware of her effect on each and every person, soldier and citizen alike. Shrewd and coldly calculating, she knew that her subjects were united in but one thing.

Their absolute fear of her.

She also knew that that fear could be used against her in a spectacular uprising of her citizenry, backed, perhaps, by the might of her army.

The only way to successfully counteract this threat was to give the citizens something to fear more than they feared her.

"Citizens of Corinth," she began, letting her deep, melodious voice spread itself out over the crowd, "as I stand here before you, so too does Greece stand upon the precipice of a new world order. As you enjoy daily the rights of citizenship Greece has seen fit to grant you, so too waits a person whose only goal is to take those rights away from you. As you live in freedom, so too does someone wish to take that freedom from you and make you into slaves."

She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in.

"That person is Caesar of Rome."

A murmur spread through the crowd, quickly silenced when Xena lifted her arms.

"As you gather here beneath the banner of Greece’s blessings, Caesar gathers his army and his galleons, ready to come forth onto this bountiful land and make it his own. He comes not to free you, but to enslave you. He comes not to glorify Greece, but to bury it.

"He is the destroyer."

Another murmur rippled through the crowd, louder this time.

Xena allowed it to continue for a moment before again calling for silence.

"I stand before you today not as your Ruler, but as your Savior."

Another ripple of sound permeated the square.

"Look around you, Citizens of Corinth. Look around you and see the thousands of brave men and women who have heeded my call; who are ever vigilant and ever prepared to shed their own lifeblood in defense of both you and this country itself. Warriors from Greece. From Chin. From the faraway lands of India and Egypt. All prepared to do brave battle against the Beast of Rome."

The Conqueror fell silent once again as she watched the citizenry turn and look at the massive armies surrounding them. Looking at them, for the first time, not as jailers but as defenders.

She watched as many of her people offered hesitant smiles and nods to the soldiers who stood stone-faced and proud before the citizens’ attentions.

When the crowd turned back to her, Xena began once again. "And as I have done since I first took up the sword, I shall lead this great army to preserve the glory of Greece."

It started, then. First as a lone voice near the rear of the crowd. It spread through the masses as an encroaching wave over land, gathering strength and speed.

"Xe-na! Xe-na! Xe-na! Xe-na!"

In the middle of the chanting crowd, Gabrielle stood, stunned, only just managing to keep from joining her own voice to the rest.

Never overly talkative, this woman had managed, on the strength of her words alone, to make an entire population forget her own crimes against them, and turn their anger toward an opponent they’d never heard of, and who had, as yet, never committed even one infraction upon their property or person.

She had only heard Xena give two speeches in their time together. One to an indifferent crowd as she confessed to the crimes she had committed against the town of Cirra, Callisto’s parents, and Callisto herself. The other to a group of demoralized soldiers who looked to her as their one shining hope.

What had one of the men called her? "Xena of Corinth," she whispered, looking back up at the regal figure standing ramrod straight and basking in the crowd’s adulation. "By the gods. That’s exactly who you are now, isn’t it."

As if hearing the whisper above the din of the crowd, the Conqueror unerringly met the stunned green eyes of her new and very beautiful healer. She allowed a brief smirk to curl one side of her mouth before allowing it to fade away just as quickly. What secrets hide behind those shining eyes, Amazon? And how long will it be before you reveal them to me?

After a long moment, she broke the lock of their gazes, leaving the object of her attention almost breathless with the intensity of the searing look shared between them.

The Conqueror held up her arms, quieting the crowd once again.

She held her silence for a moment, allowing her gaze to become diamond-hard, her face stony as she glared out over the milling throng.

"There are traitors among us."

This time, when the noise started, Xena let it continue, keeping her knowing smile locked tight behind her full lips.

"Like wolves among sheep, they come. Attacking the elderly. The infirm. Your children. They take away your property, smiling, and put a collar around your neck in payment. And, like wolves, they are too cowardly to attack an enemy of equal might. Instead, they stand against those too weak to oppose them."

She went silent for a moment, looking over the crowd. They looked back, suspicion for their neighbor clearly written on their faces.

"Caesar has no wish to fight me. He knows it is a battle he cannot win. So instead, he sends forth insurrectionists and spies, seeking to undermine the unified glory that is Greece."

Her arms went wide again. "Citizens of Corinth. I will not allow this mighty nation to fall to the Beast."

The crowd erupted as one voice, shouting and chanting and pumping furious fists into the air.

The Conqueror’s gaze lanced out over the crowd as they screamed out their adulation. Smiling briefly, a hard, almost bitter thing, she turned and stalked to her throne, turned again, and gracefully lowered herself into it.

Marcus stepped forward, unfurling a tightly rolled scroll. "To keep Caesar from imposing his cowardly will upon Greece, the Conqueror has decreed the following proclamations."

The cheering crowd quieted as the Captain of the Guard read the Royal Decrees imposing an even stricter martial law upon the people. All businesses were to close at sundown. People were prohibited from assembling in groups more than three outside of homes and regulated business establishments. Speaking out against the Realm was punishable by death.

When he was finished, Marcus stepped carefully back and positioned himself, once again, behind and to the immediate right of the Conqueror.

From his place to Xena’s right, Dagnine stepped forward. "Bring out the prisoner!"

Gabrielle looked on, suddenly numb, as a young woman was pulled out from a small hut to the left of the dais and thrown, face first, into the dirt at the bottom of the stairs. The woman had long, wavy red-golden hair and was wearing torn peasant clothing. When she lifted her head up from the ground, the bard gasped aloud as vivid, determined green eyes met hers briefly before sliding away.

"The resemblance is remarkable," Tao Feng observed from beside Gabrielle. "You could almost be sisters."

The bard’s comment was lost as Xena’s voice sounded over the crowd. "What is her crime."

The young woman turned her head, sneering at the Conqueror. "I spoke."

The words were imbued with a lifetime’s worth of despise for the woman casually looking down at her.

"She incited the people against you, Majesty," Dagnine said. "She encouraged them to revolt."

Slowly, Xena arose from her throne, the smirk plain upon her face. Like a wild beast stalking prey, the Conqueror of Greece walked calmly down the steps toward the young woman. "Get up."

Stay down! Please, stay down!

The woman struggled up to her feet and stood, unbowed and unbroken, before her tormentor. Xena stopped before her, intentionally towering over the much smaller woman. Reaching out, she grabbed a fistful of golden hair, then dropped her hand and caressed her captive’s lips.

"Are you guilty?" she purred.

Xena, no! Stop! Don’t do this!

Defiantly, the woman shrugged off the Conqueror’s caress. "I gave voice to the people. The fearful. The starving. The ones who disappeared into the night, never to be seen again." The woman turned, looking out over the crowd.

Gabrielle stiffened, tears of horror already gathering in her eyes, sure that she could quote exactly the next words the woman would say. Her words.

"Have you no dignity?" the woman cried out to her unheeding listeners. "No rights? A right to live! To be free from harm!!"

By the gods. It is me!

A dark smile spread the Conqueror’s lips as the crowd remained silent and scoffing. "I guess they don’t hear your voice."

The young woman swung back around, her face full of hate. "I’m not the only one. You can’t break our spirit."

Xena’s smile broadened as Gabrielle’s heart sunk through her body. "The cure for spirit is fear. You’ll serve as an example." She gestured casually to her waiting guards. "Put her on the cross."

Xena, no! Don’t do this! By the gods, don’t do this!!

Gathering up her robes, the Conqueror walked back up the stairs, then turned her head. "Break her legs."

The young woman made not a sound as she was bustled to the waiting cross and tied down. But when the heavy mallet shattered her legs, she and Gabrielle screamed as one.

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #xwp #fanfiction #femslash #mature #author: swordnquil

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