Characters and backstory of Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of Renaissance/MCA/Studios USA.  This story is not meant to infringe upon their rights.  This story was not written for monetary gain.  Anything not copyrighted to the above mentioned parties is copyrighted to me.  If you wish to archive or link this story, please contact me.

This story is rated R for the most part, but I'd go with NC-17 for explicit sex and language in some sections.

This story contains themes and descriptions of a loving, sexual relationship between two consenting adult women.  This story is intended for a mature audience with an open mind.  If it is illegal for you to read this story for any reason at all, please close this web page and find something that is legal for you to read.

There is physical violence depicted in this story, probably a notch above what is shown on a typical Xena episode.  

Sexual violence is alluded to and spoken about in this story; its after-effects are discussed a little more thoroughly.

The idea for this story came upon me while in the shower one day.  I believe I was thinking about Xena's childhood and how it led to her becoming the Destroyer of Nations.  And from there, the creative process began.  I wondered what Xena would have been like if she and Gabrielle, as well as other characters from the Xenaverse had grown up together.  As such, this story is almost a complete departure from Xena canon as we know it.  I have re-written Xena history for this story, although the characters themselves are pretty much maintained as far as personality and traits, for the most part.

When I first started this piece, I was thinking comedy, but the muse took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and I ended up with this.  It is dark in parts and lighter in others.  This is a longer piece of fanfic that I usual write.

And finally, I want to thank PD Wonder.  

Wherever you are, I know you are with your love, but when you were with us, you were the greatest editor I've ever had the opportunity to know.  You were a great asset to the world known as the Xenaverse, as well as the real world, which we sometimes ignore for our passions.  From the bottom of my heart, Thank You.

 

Comments can be sent to [email protected].

The Dreams of Children

Written by TZ
Edited by PD Wonder

Part One
Copyright August 11, 1998

The village of Amphipolis was strangely quiet. The sheep had already been taken to the western pasture for grazing and the small children were put down for their afternoon naps. The cause of the eerie silence was the absence of the older children.

Most of them had stolen away for a while to skinny dip in the lazy river to beat the early summer heat. Several, though, were engaged in a game of Warlords and Heroes in the lush forests that bordered the town to the north. The leaders on both sides were siblings, brother and sister, whose looks proclaimed their blood relation. The girl, a beautiful child of eleven years, had picked the winning straw, and was waiting for her army of heroes to arrive.

"Come on, Xena, let me play." A small, golden bundle of energy that had seen almost six years had been trying to get the older girl's attention.

The raven-haired girl looked over her shoulder to the little one who was tugging on her tunic. "No, Gabrielle. You can't even hold your sword right."

The smaller girl's chin jutted out in stubborn defiance. "I told you, my momma won't let me play with swords."

Shaking her head, Xena snorted. "It's not real."

"I know that...but I don't want to be punished for playing with swords again." Gabrielle clung steadfastly to her stick. Both hands gripped the middle instead of the end like a sword that it was supposed to be.

"Your momma doesn't punish you," the taller girl chided. "Going to bed without dessert is no big deal."

"But we're having nutbread tonight, and I'm not getting in trouble."

A little boy about the age of Gabrielle crept quietly to their side. "Commander Xena, reporting for report."

"That's 'reporting for duty', Lyceus," the older girl corrected her little brother with a warm smile.

"What about me?"

Xena turned to the little girl and crossed her arms. Her crystal blue eyes brightened with an idea. "I've got it! You can pretend it's a staff. That way if your momma says anything, you can tell her it's a walking stick."

Gabrielle smiled brightly and her eyes misted with tears. "Thanks, Xena."

The taller girl crouched down, ruffling her playmates' heads and drawing them closer so that they could see the small map that she was drawing in the dirt. "Toris, Joxer, Draco, and Perdicus have their castle here," she explained, pointing to a small 'x' on the ground. "This is where we are. As soon as Auto and Calli get here, we'll sneak in and knock it over. Everyone got that?"

Lyceus nodded, but Gabrielle was biting her lip.

Xena recognized the worrisome habit for what it was, and furrowed her brow. "What is it, Gabrielle?"

"Um...Xena, Auto and Calli got in trouble again."

"What now?"

"Auto was caught stealing Cleo's britches off the clothesline. His pa packed him up and sent him to his Aunt Marill's, and Calli burned down her pa's outhouse. I think she's stuck slopping the pigs now."

"Hades," the older girl muttered low so that her young army could not hear her. "What about Ephiny?"

Lyceus shook his head and began to nibble his own lip. "Her Aunt Melosa took her north to get a new pony."

The young leader craned her neck to study the leafy canopy above as she contemplated her options. "All right. I have to figure out a way to get them away from their castle so that you two can destroy it."

The youngsters looked at each other and then to their leader with adoring worship in their eyes. For Xena, they would do anything. "Okay," they chorused, happy that the older girl included them in her plan.

"Good. Now, you two remember how I taught you how to sneak up on old lady Agate's dog?" When the two little ones nodded their heads, she continued. "That's what we have to do here. We have to be really quiet so that they don't hear us. All right?"

Not wanting to anger their commander, the children remained silent, but their excitement shone brightly in their eyes. When their leader picked up her own wooden sword, they followed as quietly as possible and took up their positions like Xena had told them. When the older girl disappeared up an apple tree, their curiosity was piqued, knowing that whatever their commander was planning, it was sure to be good.

Inside a rickety structure made of rough wooden planks strung together with broken bits of rawhide, Gabrielle and Lyceus could hear the high pitched whine of one of their adversaries. Lyceus rolled his eyes and Gabrielle smirked knowingly. Joxer was crying about not getting to help make plans to defeat the heroes. Toris had not been happy to end up with the clumsy boy, but since Xena had recruited Lyceus and Gabrielle, the two youngest of their playgroup, the warlord leader had been obligated to take him.

A dull thud turned the young children's attention from Joxer's complaints. Looking up into the trees, sure that Xena was the cause of it, they watched as another green apple bounced off the door askew on its hinges. The sounds came quickly then, one after another in a rapid-fire staccato. Lyceus and Gabrielle waited with nervous energy, knowing that this was the diversion that would draw the warlords out of their castle.

When Toris finally emerged, crawling through the small opening, the apples stopped falling. He barely registered the presence of his army at his side as he searched the trees surrounding them for any sign of his sister. Suddenly, like a deadly bird of prey, their adversary leapt from her perch with a shrill battlecry.

Knowing that their chance was greatest at that moment, the two youngsters shook off their awe and rushed for the castle. Throwing their small bodies into the job at hand, they grunted with effort and turned red with excitement.

Only Draco had not been startled by Xena's sudden appearance. She had made it a habit to jump out of trees into his path lately. He had just gotten used to seeing her falling through the air like she was born with wings. Therefore, he was the only one to notice Lyceus and Gabrielle succeed in their mission. "The castle!"

Toris spun away from his sister's victorious grin at his soldier's shout and growled deep in his throat. "It took me a month to build that, Xena," his adolescent voice cracked in an effort to reach manhood. "It's not fair!"

The two youngest of the group saw approval and satisfaction in their commander's eyes, and they beamed at each other. When Toris took a threatening step towards his little sister, however, the daring duo rushed at him from behind, determined to protect Xena. Gabrielle aimed low with her staff and hit Toris behind the knees, causing him to buckle under the unexpected attack. Lyceus jumping on his back and hauling him down by the tunic collar completed their goal.

The warlord stared up at the fair-haired little ones with an edge of menace narrowing his eyes. A spark of jealousy began to flame as he watched Xena gather the little boy and girl each into an arm and bestow upon them a brilliant smile of pride. Xena and her army had beaten him again, although she had recruited the youngest soldiers. He never counted on such loyalty from them towards her.

"Game's over, Toris," Xena announced as she ruffled her compatriots' hair and then offered him a hand to his feet. "We win again."

The young man refused her hand, rising defiantly under his own power. "One of these days, Xena, you aren't going to, and I'll make sure that I'm there to see it."

As he turned and stomped deeper into the forest to be alone, he missed the intense fire that suddenly flared in his little sister's narrowed eyes. Xena watched him go; her eyes followed him until the dense cover concealed him.

"Xena?"

The dark-haired girl looked down at Gabrielle and then to Lyceus who were watching her with fearful curiosity. "What?"

"Are you all right," Lyceus asked as he reached tentatively to hold her hand.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be," the older girl asked as her brows furrowed.

"You're all red and breathing funny," Gabrielle answered as she stepped closer and looked up into Xena's face. "And your eyes are scaring me."

Xena took a deep breath and shook her head. When her heart's pounding returned to normal, she smiled wide and ruffled the younger children's heads. "If I was so scary, how come you two were standin' so close?"

Gabrielle and Lyceus looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. "'Cause we love you," Gabrielle answered with childlike conviction.

Wrapping an arm around each of them, the victorious leader of heroes led her soldiers back to the village. "How much you want to bet that Mama made some sweets for us," she asked. Her question was met with enthusiastic questions and guesses as to what the treats might be.

As the two little ones made bets with each other, her attention turned inward. She began to nibble at her bottom lip. She was not sure what had happened earlier. It was as if her entire world had been focused on Toris and nothing else. She had wanted to hurt him because of his spiteful words, but a memory of her father's censure had stopped her. She had thought that she had gotten better at controlling her feelings. She bowed her head when she realized that she had been wrong. She would have to work twice as hard to be good. She just wanted to please her papa. She wanted him to come home.

Xena tugged at the dress that her mother had urged her to wear. While she was more comfortable in the breeches and tunic that she normally sported, she had complied. Secretly, she was thrilled, for it gained her Draco's attention, but outwardly, she maintained an innocent front. Amphipolis was celebrating the Harvest Festival, and dressing in finery was just part of the deal. Her only consolation was that Toris and Lyceus had to endure the same torture.

They followed their mother obediently as she toured the village square, chatting with neighbors and indulging in gossip. However, their eyes were absorbing all the excitement and unbridled revelry that a good harvest always brought. The raven-haired girl smiled brightly when they finally ran into Gabrielle's family. Xena, now at fifteen years, was tall and lithe. Her body was toned and well-muscled by strenuous games and hard work at her mother's inn. She winked slyly at the golden-haired girl.

As Cyrene became distracted in conversation with Hecuba and Herodotus, Xena slipped around her mother's side and sat next to Gabrielle, who was enjoying a candied apple most thoroughly. "Hey, Gabrielle, having fun?"

The young girl's pink tongue snaked out between her reddened lips and tasted the sweetness that lingered there. "The best, Xena. I'm going to write a great story about it tonight when I get home," she enthused.

"Sounds great," Xena agreed, losing interest in the young girl when she spotted Draco walking with his uncle. When the young man finally looked her way, she leaned back on her hands and posed in a way that she hoped was alluring. When the dark young man's brow rose in question, she smiled in confirmation.

"Xena?"

A tug on her sleeve tore her attention away from Draco. She blushed guiltily when she turned to find Gabrielle looking at her with curiosity. "Huh?"

"You haven't been listening to me," the small girl complained as she shot a baleful glance to the young man who was now approaching them.

"I'm sorry, Gabrielle. I promise," Xena said as she laid her hand over her heart, "I'll let you read that story to me after you finish with it, all right?"

The older girl's sincere words melted the hurt that had begun to wrench her heart. Gabrielle smiled and took another bite of her apple, laughing when a chunk of candy fell from her lips into her lap.

"I'll see you later, okay, Gabrielle?"

"Okay, Xena."

With a pat to the little girl's knee, Xena rose and joined Draco by the split-rail fence that served as the town's common corral. Smiling enticingly at the young man, she committed herself to play the game of courtship that she considered silly and a waste of time.

A soft gasp behind her caught her attention momentarily, and she turned to see Gabrielle running away from Perdicus. Part of her wanted to run after the little girl and find out what the boy had said to her, and then promptly beat him up for it. For the briefest of moments, she pictured him cowering at her feet, begging for mercy. The other part of her, however, was engaged by the smooth banter of the young man who held her baser interests.

Her newly awakened libido won. Shaking her head to lose the bloody vision, she focused all her attention on the vain flattery that Draco was paying her. With a mental roll of her eyes, she debated whether to tell her suitor that she was already willing for whatever he had planned. She listened for a few moments longer before she took his hand firmly in hers. With a few whispered words, she had him following her; a big grin was etched upon his face.

When they reached an isolated clearing that was shadowed in the day's waning light, Xena took a deep breath. She was nervous, but she refused to stop the event she had already put in motion. With a bravado she did not feel, she laughed in a way that she hoped was seductive and began to loosen the ties on her dress. She forced her eyes to stay on Draco as he began to disrobe.

Her naked body flushed with anticipation and she took a hesitant step towards the young man. She marveled at the dark hue of his skin and wondered how it tasted. Eager to learn what her body desperately wanted to know, she succumbed to her desire. Her eyes and hands followed the lines of his firm body and her heart hastened its beat in appreciation. When he growled and pulled her tight to his warmth, she gasped. Curiosity was overwhelmed by animal heat when she felt his hardness nudge against her hip. Wanting nothing more than to end the sweet pain that had coiled at her center, she sank to the fragrant forest floor, pulling Draco with her.

Her lesson ended sooner than she had anticipated. Her own need was unfulfilled. Xena pushed Draco off her prone body with a muffled curse. For all his sweet words and promises of Elysium, the young man certainly lacked for follow-through. She stood and ignored his appraising eyes as she dusted off her behind and found her dress where she had draped it over a tree branch only five minutes earlier. Spying his shirt, she grabbed it, wiped his sticky fluid from her thighs, and threw it to him. Pulling her dress over her head, she promised herself that it was the first time, and the last time, that she would ever welcome his attentions.

"It was fun, Draco," she muttered, angry with herself that she had given her virginity to someone who did not even know how to pleasure a woman. "But don't count on any repeat performances."

Draco watched as the statuesque beauty stalked out of the clearing and back to the village. Her rejection was numbed by the tingles of satisfaction that were still coursing through his veins. Xena was the prize catch of Amphipolis, and he had her first. With a conquering grin, the young man stood and donned his clothes.

Xena, not wanting her mother to see her disheveled appearance, snuck into her room behind the tavern through her opened window. She paced, berating herself mentally for allowing hormones to rule her brain. She knew that Draco would say something to his friends about his experience with her, his 'conquering of her spirit,' as he had said before he had entered her roughly and without care. She should have pushed him off then, but her natural curiosity wanted to see the act to its end. She had been struck dumb by the over-rated opinion of sex.

Knowing that she would be missed, she ran a cold rag over her face and between her legs. Once she had combed her hair, she climbed out the window to join the festival once more.

Night had finally descended and it was almost time for the fires to be lit. She wandered over to the main bonfire. Taking a seat on a nearby stump, she brooded over her new womanhood. She had been a fool. She knew that Draco would brag. It was his nature. With a scowl, she realized that it had drawn her to him in the first place. She had been naive and stupid. Once the word got out about what she had done, she knew that her life as a carefree girl would end. Offers would be made for her hand, and her mother would expect her to accept eventually.

With a solemn oath, she made a promise that she would never let herself be owned and conquered. Her fierce spirit refused to accept the prospect of settling down. She wanted to travel; she wanted to see the world. She would not be able to do those things if she was married and saddled with children. She had to find a way to break out of the mold that had been cast for her. She had to follow a way that was her own. She had to prove to everyone that she was independent and strong.

She mulled over her options before she realized that she was an equal to the young men of her village. Among them, she was the fastest runner and the highest jumper. She always bested them at swordplay when they were recreating the battle stories the traveling bards told them.

Remembering the stories her father had once told her about great battles he had seen, Xena realized that deep in her heart, she wanted to be like him. Even though he had abandoned his family when she was still a child, she remembered in him a fire for life and a thirst for action. He had been a decorated warrior when he left Amphipolis. She pictured him now leading armies triumphantly against his foes. If she were like him, if she were the greatest warrior in all of Greece, no one would be able to tell her what to do. She would be free to follow her own destiny.

As Gabrielle watched Xena rise and walk over to meet Draco near the corral, she did not notice someone had taken the vacated seat on the bench.

"Hey, Gabby."

Green eyes winced with annoyance. Sighing, Gabrielle turned her attention to the boy who sat beside her. "Perdicus, I asked you not to call me that."

"Why not? Joxer does all the time," the young man argued.

"And I broke his nose last time he dared," she challenged; a sticky hand balled into a fist.

"Aw, come on, Gabrielle, you can't be mean to me. I'm gonna be your husband when we grow up. My ma said so."

The young girl snorted and inched away from Perdicus. "I'm not going to marry you, Perdicus. I'm going to marry Xena."

The boy rolled his eyes. "That's stupid," he replied, turning for a moment to watch Xena and Draco talking.

"Is not," the young girl argued. "Xena's my best friend, and I love her."

"Well, she doesn't love you. She loves Draco," Perdicus informed her with a cruel smile. "If she loved you, she would be here with you, not over there with him."

The plain words, spoken so simply, broke the little girl's heart. Fat tears began to well in her eyes, and she choked off a sob. Gabrielle wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and claimed a shuddering breath. "I don't care, Perdicus. I'm not going to be your wife. Never," she gasped loudly as she rose quickly from the bench. She ran away to hide behind the barn so that she could shed her tears in privacy.

Gabrielle looked up in surprise when she heard the faint tinkle of metal. She rubbed her eyes dry and then grimaced when she imagined what she must look like with red candy smeared all over her face and in her hair. Raising her head slightly, she acknowledged her company. "Hey, Joxer."

The young man smiled somberly when he realized that Gabrielle had been crying. "Hey, look what I made for you," he said as he offered her a necklace that he had made for himself to wear for the festival.

When the weight of the heavy metal settled on her chest, Gabrielle held it in her stained hand and contemplated its artistry. Joxer had been apprenticed to the smithy, as he had shown some promise towards the skill. Half the village still waited expectantly for the bumbling boy to set the forge on fire. The piece was actually kind of nice, she thought, as she turned it over. Although there were several bubbles in the otherwise smooth surface of the medallion, it was a fine representation of a lion. "It's very nice, Joxer," she said sincerely.

The young man beamed with pride. "That's what Master Kiviam said. I know I can do better, though," he promised. When Gabrielle raised her head to smile encouragingly, his eyes saddened. "Why were you crying, Gabrielle?"

The girl could not find the heart to grin over the fact that Joxer had learned a lesson from his broken nose and had not called her 'Gabby' since. "It's nothing," she mumbled.

Joxer's brows drew together in thought and then raised in excitement. "It's a girl thing, isn't it?"

Gabrielle merely stared at him with unseeing eyes. The feelings in her heart were confusing and she did not know how to deal with them. Xena was everything to her. Everything. And each day, as the older girl's beauty shone brighter and brighter, Gabrielle could see that she was losing the one person she thought that she could ever love. She had been honest when she had told Perdicus that she was going to marry Xena. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with the older girl, and she knew of no better way to do so.

"Hey, if you need someone to talk to, Calli is over by the main bonfire," Joxer said as he turned and pointed to the middle of the square where men were preparing a great mound of wood for burning.

The little girl almost rolled her eyes when his face softened into a dopey expression. It was no secret that Joxer was infatuated with the thin blonde. He seemed oblivious to the fact that Callisto barely acknowledged him.

Gabrielle nodded and rose to unsteady legs. When Joxer stood to give her a supporting hand, she smiled wistfully and whispered a thank-you. She did not plan to talk to Callisto. She needed find some place where she could be alone. She needed to figure out why she hurt so bad inside. She had to find a way to make it go away.

She could feel Joxer's eyes on her back as she made her way toward Calli, so she stopped and studied the girl who was fidgeting with anticipation. Callisto was watching the men laying the tinder; she eager to see the fire lit. The men seemed to fear the anxious blond girl.

Turning to glance behind her, Gabrielle saw that Joxer had joined Perdicus and Lyceus. The three of them were roaming among the stalls of merchantware that had been set up for the festival.

Normally, Gabrielle would have joined them with a passion, for she loved the sights and smells of a merchant stall, but her heavy heart urged her to find solace. With a plaintive sigh, she followed the northern path out of the village and into the woods. When she had gone a modest distance, she sat upon a log and began to compose a silent poem of her unrequited love.

She sat there for only a short amount of time before a low-pitched laugh piqued her curiosity. She rose and followed her ears, moving with stealth that years of playing Warlords and Heroes had honed. When she came upon the clearing, she was stopped frozen. Grateful that she was hidden among the shadows of the trees, she could barely make out the two forms in the waning light, but the voices, she knew.

The low moans and short grunts were foreign to her young experience, and it was too dark to see exactly what they were doing, so she figured that Xena and Draco were wrestling with each other. She listened as her friend cried out Draco's name in dismay. Not wanting to be found such a mess, Gabrielle crept away, vowing never to reveal to Xena the pain that was in her heart.

After running away from Xena and Draco, Gabrielle returned to the village to find that all the fires were lit. Loud music and conversation assaulted her ears that were still burning with the sounds of Xena's husky laughter. She could see her mother's disapproval in the etched lines of the woman's face before she could even hear the chastising words. When she finally was close enough, she willed herself not to show her annoyance.

"Why can't you be more like Lila? I swear by Demeter, child...."

The little blond glared at her younger sister who was scrunching her face in mimicry to their mother's; her ears closed off to the words that she had memorized long ago. She fought the urge to search for Xena as her mother grasped her firmly by the shoulder to lead her home. If she was going to marry her tall, dark friend one day, she had to learn to be smart, brave, and strong.

Xena tucked her sword under her arm as she adjusted the belt that held her tunic closed. She wiped the sweat from her palms across the soft leather of her breeches. Grasping the hilt of the old sword she had found among her father's belongings, she stepped into the crowd of young men that were learning how to defend the village.

Although she stood as tall as the rest of them, she found that she was jostled among them as they shifted their weight. More than one elbow was raised and connected with the flesh of her stomach and chest. Not wanting to be distracted from what the teacher was explaining, she stepped back from their reach.

When the ex-soldier who led them called for them to begin practicing what he had shown them, she found herself on the edge of the group. She made a mistake as she was repeating the sword drill and hit herself in the forehead with the flat of her blade. She reddened in embarrassment and anger when she heard snickers and low laughter.

"Go home, Xena," the man on her left whispered. "Learn how to use a blade meant for a woman."

"A cooking knife," another chortled softly.

The young woman ignored their cruel comments. She concentrated on the drill and attempted it a second time. She was successful in her attempt even though a few of the movements caused her some discomfort.

She saw the teacher making his rounds. He was correcting his students' errors and giving them words of encouragement and praise.

When the teacher reached the back of the class, Xena waited expectantly for him to address her, but he only shook his head and moved on.

"Don't expect him to teach ya, girl," her tormenter said. "You're wasting your time here. Just go home."

"I think I hear your mommy calling," the other added.

Xena bit her lip to stifle a retort and she focused her vision past the red haze that clouded it. With restrained fury, her sword's movements increased in speed and her efforts were vocalized with soft grunts of exertion.

For two hours she trained with the men of her village. She withstood the derogatory remarks they cast her way. By the end of the class, she smiled in satisfaction at her accomplishment. When the teacher approached her again, she straightened; she waited for his words of praise.

The retired captain cleared his throat as he stood in front of the young woman. He shook his head again in disbelief. "Xena, girl, why are you here? Raising a sword in defense is not a woman's responsibility. If you feel a need for protection, marry a strong man."

"But sir, I want to be a warrior," she explained solemnly as she fought against the anger that had been welling since the start of class.

The teacher's eyes sparkled with humor and he laughed aloud. "A warrior? You were barely able to follow my lesson today."

"I thought I did well," she murmured loud enough for him to hear.

"Did well, you think? How about you try to gain admission to this class the proper way, then?"

Xena stepped back when the ex-soldier raised his sword. She brought her own up to defend. She winced with the effort of deflecting his first strike. Her wrists and arms were sore from drilling relentlessly for two hours. Her fatigue lent to her delayed movements.

Time and again, she was struck by the teacher's broadsword. The muscles in her arms were knotting and her eyes misted with the pain. Her breath was stolen when the ex-soldier swept her feet from under her; she landed heavily on her back.

Opening her eyes, she saw the teacher standing over her. The tip of his sword was pressed against the hollow of her throat. When she looked up into his eyes, she saw pity.

"Go home, Xena. I will not teach you."

Xena felt the sword move away from her throat and she watched the teacher join the other students. Hot tears of embarrassment pooled in the corners of her eyes. Leaving her father's sword on the training field, she stood shakily to her feet and ran. She did not stop until she reached a quiet glade in the forest. She fell to her knees and sobbed. Only when her face hurt and her eyes were swollen was she able to stop. She hiccuped several times before she raised her head.

She gasped when she saw that there was another person in the clearing with her; she lowered her head to avoid the intruder's gaze. "What are you doing here," she asked thickly.

"You forgot this," Gabrielle answered as she dragged the heavy sword to her friend. "I didn't want you to lose it." The blonde girl fell to her knees and wrapped an arm around Xena's shoulders. When the other girl moved to shake it off, she merely tightened her grip. "I'm sorry he hurt you," she whispered. "That wasn't very nice of him."

"What do you know," the older girl asked as she tried to turn away again. Her fatigue left her weak, though, and she could not dislodge the tenacious blonde.

Gabrielle cocked her head and sighed. "I know what it's like to have someone laugh at me. It hurts inside and nothing can make the hurt go away."

Xena wiped her nose on her sleeve and raised her head. The compassion in Gabrielle's eyes eased the pain that had constricted her heart. "I hurt all over, Gabrielle...inside and out." She leaned into the small hand that cupped her face.

"Do you really want to be a warrior, Xena?"

The older girl studied the soft green eyes of her friend. Finding no recriminations or censure, she nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"Why?"

Xena shrugged and raised her eyes to the trees that towered over them. "Because my father was...because I think I can be good at it."

Gabrielle chewed her lip as she thought about Xena's answer. Taking the older girl's hand in her own, she stood. "Well, then, I guess you better practice." Gabrielle felt the other girl relent to the steady pressure on her arm. When Xena stood, she handed her the sword. "When I write a story and it doesn't sound right, I keep working on it until I like it," she explained. "That's the way you have to be. You can't quit just because it didn't work right the first time. You have to keep working until you get it right." Stepping back, she raised her hands to her tiny hips. "Okay, now...practice."

Letting the tip of her sword rest against the toe of her boot, Xena shook her head. "I can't, I'm too sore and tired." Her weary, bloodshot eyes widened when Gabrielle snorted. "I can't!"

"Yes, you can, Xena," Gabrielle urged. "Don't ever let anyone say you can't...not even yourself. You have to believe."

"In what?"

"Yourself," the young girl answered simply as she bent and raised the sword to an upright position.

"Why," Xena asked with intensity.

Gabrielle caught the older girl's eyes with her own and held them for a breathless moment. "Because I do. I believe in you."

Xena could find no arguments to use against the little girl's conviction. Ignoring the pain that throbbed with every movement, she repeated the drill. When she was confident that she had mastered its moves, she smiled brightly at her companion. "I did it."

"I knew you could," Gabrielle cried as she jumped in place, clapping her hands.

The next morning, Xena forced her way into the crowd of students and waited patiently for the teacher to begin the day's lesson. From out of the corner of her eye, she could see a flash of honey-blonde hair and she felt a strength of purpose rise within. Believing in herself and the confidence that Gabrielle had in her, she stood taller.

The liniment that her mother had rubbed on her sore muscles had eased her physical pain and Gabrielle's supportive presence erased the mental. She was ready to prove herself worthy of the sword.

When the time came to repeat the lesson, she stood in the middle of the group; she refused to be relegated to the back of the formation. Energy suffused her body and she grinned when she repeated the drill without mishap.

At the end of the two hours, the teacher approached her again. "Are you ready to enter my class?"

With a sure nod, she raised her sword. The ex-soldier's attack was relentless and she bit her lip to keep from crying out from the pain. She managed to block or deflect more blows than before, but the results were the same.

The teacher grasped her hand and pulled her up from the ground. "I still won't teach you," he stated as he walked away. "I don't want to see your face here tomorrow," he added over his shoulder.

Xena refused to give into the pain that the teacher's blade and words inflicted. She threw her shoulders back and marched to the edge of the practice field. She accepted the towel Gabrielle handed her and wiped the sweat from her face.

"Don't quit, Xena. I know you can do it," Gabrielle said as she took the towel from Xena's hands. She continued as she rubbed the older girl's arms. "Don't let anyone tell you that you can't do anything. You can do anything if you work for it."

Xena nodded her head and looked back to find the teacher telling a story to the rest of the class. Their laughter and camaraderie made her yearn for their approval.

"Come on, we have to practice," Gabrielle urged as she tugged the older girl's hand.

For an entire week, the same was repeated. Xena would show up for class and would drill with the others. She practiced relentlessly until the end of class. Each day that the teacher confronted her, she managed to avoid more blows. On the seventh day, the teacher pulled her off the ground with a mild grunt. "You learn quickly," he praised. "There is no doubt that you are your father's daughter."

Xena refused to quell the hope that restricted her breathing. Her eyes lit with expectation. "Will you teach me now?"

The teacher scrutinized her with experienced eyes. "Aye, I'll teach you. But you'll not get any special treatment from me."

"No, sir," the young woman agreed with a vigorous shake of her head.

"All right," the ex-soldier grunted, "get lost, then. I'll see you in the morning."

Xena nodded and turned to Gabrielle who had been at the practice field every day. Her bright smile revealed the words that had been shared with the teacher.

Gabrielle returned the smile and ran to the other girl. With proud enthusiasm, she threw her arms around Xena and squeezed tight. "I told you," she shouted as she tried to swing the older girl around. "I told you."

"Yes, you did," Xena replied softly as she pushed a stray hair off Gabrielle's forehead. "I can't stop, though," she said as she stepped out of the embrace. "Now that he has accepted me, I have to keep up like I have been."

"Of course," Gabrielle returned as she rushed to keep up with the taller girl's long strides. "If you're gonna be a great hero, you have to be better than the bad people."

"A hero?"

The young blonde's eyes became distanced as she thought of a story involving a hero rescuing an imprisoned princess. "Yeah, why else would you want to learn how to fight?"

Xena shook her head in amusement. "I can't let anything stop me," she said as she envisioned her future. I can't let anything get in my way." Suddenly, the young warrior stopped and looked down at her friend. "Thanks, Gabrielle. I couldn't have done this without you."

Gabrielle blushed and ducked her head. She bathed in the light of her friend's warm eyes. She would never forget the feeling.

Gabrielle removed her long skirt and tunic and folded them carefully over a low tree branch. Her body, which had developed into one of a young woman, glowed in the early afternoon sun. Closing her eyes, she envisioned the lessons that had been taught that morning. The bard's fertile mind painted vivid memories of the morning's weapon training class. She could hear the sound of swords and staffs clashing. She could smell the sweat of exertion heavy in the air. Opening her eyes, she studied the clearing that had become as comfortable as home to her.

She had spent so much time in the ancient grove in the past few years. She could remember the days that the small saplings had emerged through the soft surface of the forest floor. She had named the creatures that gathered in the branches above to watch her with curious eyes.

Five years had passed since she had promised herself to become strong so that Xena would love her. She reflected that in that time, she had matured from a dreamy ten-year-old to a determined young woman. She still wanted Xena's attention. She doubted that would ever change. She conceded, though, that she now pushed herself for her own benefit as well. As she had grown older, she had also become more confident. She attributed it to her private training.

Inhaling deeply, she rolled her neck and shoulders and picked up the staff she had set aside. After a few easy moves, she planted her feet and started her practice routine.

Unlike Xena, who had earned the right to train alongside the young men of their village through brute force, Gabrielle had learned how to fight on her own. Like the other young women of the village, she had to stand by and watch as the retired military captain trained the militia. Unlike the others who would come to watch a favorite suitor, however, she studied techniques and styles.

Every day when the militia class broke for lunch, Gabrielle retreated to her private bower amongst the dwarfing oaks of the oldest part of the forest. Away from prying eyes, she stripped down to her practice clothing - a cropped top and split skirt. She repeated the day's lessons with uncanny precision. Repeatedly, she would drill and practice. After a while, she incorporated her own moves and developed her own style of fighting.

After she was done with her drills, she escaped to a secluded spot of the river where she disrobed and allowed the cooling water to clean away the day's exertion. Fresh and cool, she spent several hours drying herself in the sun as she scribbled upon the endless supply of parchment that was in her battered shoulder-bag.

When the night began to chill her bare skin, Gabrielle rose and donned her clothes. She shrugged into her blouse and tied the shirt closed. Her long skirt neatly concealed the lean muscles that she had developed over the last few years. Stuffing her dried exercise clothing into her bag, she sighed and took the dreaded steps that would lead her home. Ever since she had made her vow that Harvest Festival so many seasons ago, she had learned a lot about herself and the people around her.

The village, while stable and somewhat secure, was predictable and at times, downright boring. If it was not for Calli and her occasional minor fires, things would probably just slow to a halt and no one would notice. No one but her, and maybe Xena.

Draco had seen it. Now, he was free. She had heard from a traveler that the young man was making a fine name for himself as a soldier in the Thessalian army. She was happy for him and wished him well, that he would never have to return to the sleepy village in which she was doomed to wither and die.

Xena had become more distanced from her as the older girl had grown to womanhood. Her focus had drifted and she now concentrated only on honing her warrior skills. She was still unmarried, as she had spurned all suitors, some of them brutally. Men had even come from leagues around to court the fierce beauty. The challenge of subduing and taming the powerful woman was a relentless obsession for others. Xena, as if to prove to the known world that she was independent of all, remained aloof. Gabrielle knew, however, that no matter how much the village talked about her, about her strange desire to be a warrior, that the people of Amphipolis were proud of her, of her abilities and her reputation.

When she watched the men and Xena practice, her attention strayed constantly to the woman who had grown even more striking with time. She was like a predator that stalked and played with its meal. She laughed when she bested her opponent. At times, she was uncontrollable like fire. At others, she was as icy as her cold blue gaze. When she was not fighting, she was stoic and reserved. She fascinated Gabrielle.

Although they rarely talked anymore, Gabrielle was still drawn to her. Xena was everything that she wanted to be. No one dared to correct the warrior or ridicule her abilities anymore. Like Xena, Gabrielle knew that she was different. They were alike in that way. Gabrielle still believed as she had for so long now, that the warrior woman was her soul's mate. She could not explain why she believed such as fact.

When she looked into the other woman's eyes, though, she could feel herself drowning in their depths. Her belly tingled with nervous excitement and her heart ached with the need to touch Xena. She was not afraid of losing the breath that was always stolen from her. It felt so natural. She did not have the same feelings for anyone else. It was as if Aphrodite had created the young warrior just for her.

She knew the warrior well. Words were not needed to learn what she thought. It did not matter; Xena rarely talked with others. Gabrielle could sense a change in the warrior's mood. It was not just the usual brooding and deep thought, but rather, she could sense a restlessness to which Xena was losing a battle. She knew that it was only a matter of time before the woman she loved would leave, and it struck a chord of fear in her that she would be left alone.

When she arrived back at her parents' house, she fell into the routine of preparing the evening meal. She hid her grimace of distaste when her mother announced that Perdicus would be joining them for dinner. Gabrielle knew that the young man had an interest in her. Every so often, she would catch sight of him watching her. Even thinking about him caused a shiver to run its course down her spine.

She tried to forget him as she let her mind wander over the stories that she was constantly composing in her mind. Without conscious effort, her hands worked and formed the little sweet cakes that would be their evening dessert. She had learned long ago how to fulfill what was expected of her and, at the same time, satisfy her own desires to escape her humdrum life. She fantasized about things that she had only heard of from travelers and bards. Remembering a visitor that had come to the village several months' back, her eyes took on an inner glow.

Like Xena, the woman had been a warrior. Her father had called the stranger an Amazon. It had been a surprise to discover that Ephiny's Aunt Melosa was related to the woman, that Melosa was an Amazon herself, and royalty at that. The warrior had come searching for Melosa to inform her of her sister's failing health. The entire town had been shocked to realize that Melosa was next in line for the Amazon throne, and that Ephiny had already been chosen as her successor. With a twinge of envy, Gabrielle imagined herself as the Amazon Queen, ruling the nation of warrior women in battle and peace.

It was a fantasy that she continued as she and her family welcomed Perdicus into their house and sat down to dinner. She had long ago developed the skill of indulging in her private dreams while also participating in conversation. It was an ability that served her well, especially during times like the one she was enduring now.

Falling deeper into her fantasy, she imagined Xena at her side as she ruled the Amazons. The dark-haired woman would be her warrior, her champion, and her consort. She was able to endure the entire dinner, dessert, and the social time afterwards, as she imagined the warrior's sleek body in the revealing outfit the visiting Amazon had worn.

She managed to avoid Perdicus' intense stare when it fell upon her occasionally. Her instincts warned her of his intent, but her better nature rushed to the fore, believing that the man she had known all her life could mean her no harm, that he was as good as her family believed him to be. She mumbled her farewell as the young man rose to leave. His arm around her shoulder, however, alerted her wandering mind. She looked at him questioningly, and he repeated his question.

"Will you join me for a moment outside, Gabrielle?"

The young woman looked to her parents for their refusal, but she was disappointed to find them nodding their assent. "Why?"

"It's a beautiful night. You can see every star in the sky," he responded, urging the woman's dreamy sentiments to convince her.

Gabrielle ignored the sense of danger that was gnawing in her belly, and gave him a curt nod. She allowed him to guide her out the door and around to the side of her house where they had a good view of the constellations above in the black, inky sky. As her eyes sought out the familiar clusters of stars, she was unaware of Perdicus leaning into her, closing the distance between them. The moment that his lips touched hers, she startled and pushed at his chest in a reflexive move. "Perdicus, what do you think you are doing?"

"What do you think, Gabrielle. I saw you looking at me during dinner. Your eyes were so warm and loving. I know you were thinking about me."

The young woman looked at him incredulously. "You've got it all wrong. I was thinking of some...thing else."

Perdicus caught her slight hesitation and understood. His lips curled in a snarl. "You were thinking of her, weren't you? She doesn't care about you Gabrielle. Xena doesn't even know that you exist anymore. I do, though." He leaned in again, pressing his body against hers, forcing hers against the rough siding of her house.

"Perdicus, no," she hissed as she pushed him forcibly.

The man was surprised when the smaller woman actually managed to move him, causing him to stumble backwards. His anger rose, his indignation flared. Determined to have what was his, he took a menacing step. He was doubled over when Gabrielle found his groin with a powerful thrust of her knee. He fell to the dirt and gasped for air.

"I told you no, Perdicus. Now be smart and leave me alone."

He no longer knew what he was doing; his rage drove his actions. Gabrielle was supposed to be his. Ever since the night he had heard his father discussing betrothal plans with her father, he had not been able to think of anything but her. He had to show her how much he loved her. Once she knew, she would forget about her childish dreams of the silent warrior.

Perdicus found her face looming above his and he reached a hand to clutch at her throat. Feeling her soft skin give way under the pressure of his fingers, he found new strength and rose to his feet. "You are mine," he growled. "Your pa gave you to me. Not her, me," he repeated as his hand clamped tighter.

Gabrielle was frozen with fear as she felt the air being kept from her lungs. When spots started dancing before her eyes, she snapped out of it. She drove him back when she struck his nose with the heel of her hand. Blinded by tears and pain, he released her throat and she backed away to suck air into her starved lungs. "If you ever, ever touch me again, I'll kill you," she warned coldly.

As his vision began to clear, Perdicus saw over Gabrielle's shoulder blue eyes that glittered menacingly in the night. His raging blood froze cold and he began to tremble; a childhood memory caused his bladder to convulse violently. As he turned and ran, a painful memory played vividly in his mind's eye. He thought it had been a harmless trick.

Perdicus ran from the woman who had hurt him. He ran from the warrior she had become. He ran from his own terror.

Gabrielle was satisfied by the fear that showed briefly on Perdicus' face before he rose and fled on unsteady legs. Her shoulders slumped as the realization of the danger she had been in, hit her. Her trembling body jumped when warm hands closed over her shoulders. Spinning, she was determined to face another foe, only to find Xena studying her.

"Are you all right?"

Gabrielle nodded mutely, not wanting to show her fear. She had promised herself that she would prove herself strong to the warrior.

"That was pretty good, you know," Xena said grudgingly.

Resisting the urge to step closer to the warrior, to feel the heat that she knew would be there, Gabrielle nodded again and looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching from the porch of her house. "Um, I have to go," she whispered as she started to back away from Xena. She bounded up the steps to her parents' house and stopped to study the warrior standing in the shadows.

Xena stood with quiet menace. Gabrielle swore that she could see the other woman's eyes glowing in the dark. She felt her own welling with tears. The trauma of dealing with Perdicus' aggressiveness and then Xena's detachment was more than she could withstand.

With one last look to the shadows in which the dark woman stood, Gabrielle rushed into her house and to her room without comment to her surprised parents. She flung herself on her bed and let all her fear and terror escape with great strangled sobs that she muffled into her pillow.

When Gabrielle had disappeared into the house, Xena continued on her walk. She had been out, enjoying the peaceful quiet that always settled over the village as people retired to their houses with the sun's setting. It was a time when no eyes followed her or studied her for any sign of weakness. She had proven herself a capable fighter and perceptive tactician. Knowing that she could no longer learn anything from the retired captain that had been teaching her, she realized that she would have to leave. She wanted to be the best there was, and she could not achieve that in Amphipolis, where she was limited by the knowledge of her mentor.

Her decision to leave was easy. Toris was doing well, learning the business of the inn from their mother. Lyceus was happy and falling in love with the weaver's daughter. Her family could live without her. She was sure that no one else cared if she stayed.

Since the Harvest Festival five years ago, her single-minded purpose had driven her. She no longer had any friends; only Gabrielle had tried to hold onto the past. She had ignored practically every friendly overture Gabrielle had made, and in time, she had stopped visiting or even saying a word in greeting when they passed on the road.

She made her decision as she studied the stars above. She would leave Amphipolis to find knowledge and to enhance her skills. She would return some day. She would be celebrated as a great warrior.

Xena began to compile a mental list of the things that she would need for her journey. The separation from her family would be difficult, but they would understand.

The day that Xena said goodbye, Gabrielle felt a part of her die. Xena was cold and reserved with her farewells. The warrior had not even sought her out. She had been practicing a story with Lyceus when the news was announced. She watched Cyrene and Lyceus shed understanding tears. She disappointed herself when she began to sob miserably. She remembered then that she was strong and could wait until the warrior returned.

She immediately stood stiffly like the soldiers with whom Xena trained. She nodded curtly and bid the older woman a successful journey. Inside, though, she was already counting the time until Xena would return.

For Gabrielle, time passed on swift wings. It had been a month since the keeper of her heart had left Amphipolis, and the warrior was still foremost on the bard's mind. Nearly forgotten were her staff drills and late afternoon dips in the river. Instead, she stole away to wherever she could find her muse, and she wrote endlessly of the warrior whose image was forever burned onto her soul.

She was watching as several birds of prey circled over the sheep pastures when she heard the noise behind the tall grass that ran the length of the river. She rose and faced the direction from which it came and called out, realizing too late that she had left her staff in her father's barn. When she saw her visitor, she berated herself silently for her absent-mindedness. "Perdicus, what do you want? I thought I told you not to bother me anymore."

The young man advanced to an arm's length away from the petite bard and studied her posture of wary welcome. "I just wanted to know how you were, Gabby. That's all."

The reminder of the hated nickname from when she was younger annoyed her and it showed in the green fire of her eyes. The man's mocking sneer should have warned her of his intentions, but her anger had narrowed her focus. "Don't call me that, and go away," she warned.

Perdicus took another step closer and grinned evilly. "Who's gonna save you now, Gabby? She's gone. She left you."

"Xena's coming back. I know she is." the young woman swore as she took a careful step backwards.

"Her kind never return. She left you, Gabby. She left you to me."

Gabrielle saw the insane purpose in his glassy eyes a second too late. She cried out in fury and blind fear as he leapt for her and pinned her smaller body to the ground. She was grateful for the punch he landed on her temple, for darkness swelled and took her to a precious oblivion where she was ignorant of the horrors that Perdicus visited upon her body.

When she woke later, she started, afraid that he was still there, hurting her. The sun was beginning to set, but it still cast enough light over the small clearing that she had made for herself. Her clothes hung in tatters from her battered body and blood coated the insides of her thighs. Her scrolls and parchments were either torn into unredeemable pieces or floating in the swirling eddies that lined the shallow bend of the river.

Her screams were locked inside; her body shook with the savagery of her attacker's actions. She had known Perdicus all her life. Never had she ever considered him capable of such cruel violence. It was all too overwhelming, too brutal. Her mind shut down and her body welcomed the cold that evening brought. She was willing to wait there until Death came.

Joxer blushed when he turned to catch the young blonde watching him. Her eyes were soft and her lips were parted. Clearing his throat, he mentally kicked himself for not accepting the invitation. Callisto had finally noticed his attraction to her. He was ecstatic beyond words; he found himself inept under her burning gaze.

Callisto had been visiting the forge for almost a year when he had shyly asked her to have dinner with him. For nearly four months since, he had been courting her. When she had invited him to go for a walk by the river, he had accepted eagerly.

Suddenly, Calli stopped as if she had run into a wall. "What is...?" Joxer's mouth fell open as he looked over her shoulder. Pale moonlight bathed a small clearing in hues of silver and gray, barely illuminating the small figure that huddled there.

"Gabrielle?" The smithy stepped forward, curious as to why the young woman was out alone so late at night. He gasped when he saw the state of her clothing and the bruises that contrasted harshly against her lightly tanned skin. "Gabrielle, what happened?"

When the young woman continued to stare numbly at the bits of parchment that were dancing on the evening breeze, Calli stepped away from Joxer and knelt to bard's side. With a gentle hand, she raised Gabrielle's face and felt her heart ache at the emptiness she found.

Gabrielle responded to the gentle touch of a woman stroking her face and rubbing her arms as if to warm her. She leaned into the comforting body and began to cry. The woman held her as great wracking sobs stole her breath. When she finally became aware of her surroundings, Gabrielle pulled away reluctantly. Her empty face hid her surprise to find Calli offering her support.

She moaned low in her throat when she realized that a man was at her side, and crowded closer to the other woman for protection. When she realized that it was only Joxer, she blushed with shame. Looking up, fearing his judgement against her, she was put at ease by the concern and growing anger for the atrocity that had been committed against his friend. "Take me home," she pleaded, only wanting the familiar comfort of her room and bed.

Calli felt an inner warmth blossom when she saw Gabrielle's trust. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Gabrielle allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and accepted Joxer's shirt to cover her half-naked body. She clung to Callisto, who to her, was a lifeline to sanity, as the young woman guided her back to town. The falling chill did not cause her shivers, for she was numb. Rather, she was overcome by fear, betrayal, and most of all, hate.

She had never felt so overwhelmed by so much, and yet remained so empty. She railed against everyone who could have prevented her assault. Everyone from herself to her father to Xena, who had left her all alone to deal with Perdicus, even after the beast had tried to accost her the first time. She screamed and wailed. She drove a sword through all of their hearts.

"Is she going to be all right?"

Callisto glanced from her suitor to the young bard who was barely able to stay upright with her support. Gabrielle's face was blank, but Callisto could sense something volatile brewing just beneath the surface. "I don't know, Jox. Let's just get her home like she asked," she replied with a grunt as Gabrielle's weight sagged against her a little more. "Give me a hand here, will you?"

She could smell the man as he moved to her side. He smelled of male sweat and leather, of steel and ash. She recoiled violently, knocking the woman who held her off-balance. "No. No. Not again, please. Not again," she cried in a low rasp.

"Shhh, I've got you," Callisto murmured close to her ear as she nodded Joxer to move away. "I've got you." The taller woman shifted Gabrielle's weight under her arm and took a deep breath. A grim smile of relief flittered across her features when she saw the torches of Amphipolis guiding her closer.

They were stopped by a call from the shadowed porch of the tavern. "Joxer, Callisto? Is that you? Who have you got there?"

Joxer looked to Callisto who nodded. He trotted over to the tavern and found Cyrene leaning against a support post, sipping at a cup of hot tea. "It's Gabrielle, ma'am. We found her down by the river. She's been...."

Cyrene pushed the young man to the side as she rushed to the two women who were straggling up the street. "By the gods," she whispered as she wrapped Gabrielle's free arm around her shoulders, taking some weight off Callisto's. "Who did this to her," she asked fiercely, suspecting that the troubled young woman who had found her was to blame.

Callisto saw the innkeeper's suspicion. "We don't know...she won't say. I do know that she was attacked, though, and her scrolls were torn to shreds. We didn't see anyone else around when we were on the path," she explained as they hurried their young charge to her house on the other side of town.

Silently, Cyrene cursed the man who committed such a vile act against the vibrant young woman. She had seen the effects of such attacks in the past. Chances were Gabrielle would never be the same again. Her spirit, her body, her soul had all been defiled.

Joxer followed silently behind the three women until Gabrielle's house came into view. He ran ahead to announce their arrival. He knocked before ushering them inside the dwelling.

Herodotus and Lila were sitting at the dinner table talking of the day's events and Hecuba was carrying a tray with their dinner to the table, when all three looked up sharply to see their daughter and sister practically carried into the house. Hecuba dropped the tray and cried as she rushed over to Gabrielle with her hands covering her trembling mouth.

"What in Hades happened to my daughter," Herodotus yelled as he stood, knocking his chair backward to the floor.

Callisto released Gabrielle to her mother and backed up to Joxer's side. The words failed to form in her mouth as the enraged father bore down on her with both fists clenched. Her deep brown eyes hardened to stone as she readied to defend herself, but she was saved by Cyrene's level voice.

"Calm down, Herod. Calli and Joxer found her by the river. She had already been assaulted."

When Herodotus turned to the three women and approached, Gabrielle shrunk back into her mother's embrace. Noticing her withdrawal, Cyrene held up a hand to halt the man's approach. "She's not doing well, Herod. We need to get her cleaned up, and the healer needs to be fetched."

"I'll get Hippocrates," Lila called from the table from where she had watched the tragedy unfold. When Hecuba nodded her assent, the girl bounded from her chair and out the door past the two lovers who were observing everything unnoticed.

"Come on, Hecuba, let's get the little one to her room."

An hour later, Hippocrates was sitting with Gabrielle's parents, explaining the bard's injuries with compassion rarely seen from one in his line of work. Aside from numerous abrasions, minor lacerations, and one minor concussion, Gabrielle was fine. He cleared his throat and lowered his eyes as he spoke of the rape that had obviously been committed against the young woman and the physical damage that resulted. Given a few days and warm compresses, she would heal. However, when he tried to explain that her mind would need extra care and attention, a roar of rage from the bard's father shocked him.

Hippocrates stumbled back and glanced to the front door of the cottage when he saw the impotent fury on Herodotus' face. Mentally, he could not but help counting off the supplies he would need if the man had an attack in his heart.

"No!"

It was a single word. But it carried the weight of indignation, rage, disappointment, and embarrassment.

"My daughter was not raped," the farmer denied with a violent shake of his head that sent a shower of spittle to either side.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but...." Hippocrates jumped backwards when the larger man raised his fists.

"Out," he shouted to the top of his lungs. "Get out of my house and take that harlot with you!"

Hecuba gasped and stopped herself from reaching for her deranged husband. "Herod, she's our daughter. She was attacked...it wasn't her fault."

Herodotus spun and faced his wife whose face had gone white with fear. "What do you know? I've heard stories of her prancing around the woods half-dressed. She probably led some boy on and then tried to turn him away."

"No. She's not like that, Herod. Gabrielle wouldn't do that."

His face crimson red with the desire to strike out at something, Herodotus took a deep breath and lowered his voice to a deadly pitch. "I will not hear her name in this house anymore, wife. I had plans for that girl, and she spat on them with her whoring." Seeing the surrender in Hecuba's face, he turned once more to the healer. "You either get that harlot out of my house now, or by the gods, you'll be burying her tomorrow," he growled.

Sure that Gabrielle's father was ready to carry out his threat, Hippocrates sidled around his bulky form and retreated to the room that Gabrielle shared with her little sister. When he opened the door, he found Lila curled up into a ball and clutching her pillow over her ears. He spared a comforting smile for the girl before he gathered the slight weight of his patient and rescued her from her room. Without haste, he accepted his medical bag from Hecuba and rushed through the room, his steps as heavy as his heart.

Hecuba said a silent farewell to her oldest daughter. She saw her husband, his hands clenched, white-knuckled, grasping the back support of a chair, divert his attention to a far corner of their thatched roof. She prayed to Hestia that Gabrielle would be all right. For now, it was out of her hands. She would not be any good at all to her daughters if her husband laid her low like he was liable to do, in the mood that he was.

Hippocrates shifted Gabrielle's weight in his arms as he slowed his step and gentled his gait for the woman who was unconscious from the influence of the drugs he had administered to calm her. It was late, so he jumped and nearly dropped his patient when a figure stepped out from between two cottages. He released a relieved breath when he recognized the figure as it moved into the dim light of the street torches. "Cyrene, what are you doing out?"

The older woman studied the unconscious bard and raised her clear blue eyes welling with tears. "She was an innocent. Her father had no right."

"You heard?"

The innkeeper nodded her head. "I had finished closing the tavern and was coming back to check on her," she explained as she pushed Gabrielle's bangs from her forehead. "Half of Amphipolis probably heard Herod."

"He'll come around, I'm sure," the healer whispered, trying to comfort the older woman.

Cyrene stiffened her spine and stood to stare the man in the eye. "You've not been in this town long enough, then. Herod is as stubborn as they come. Once he had made his mind, there is no other course for him...or his family." She uttered a few choice curses she had picked up during her time keeping bar that made the healer blush. "What will you do now?"

Hippocrates shrugged his aching shoulders and shifted the bard's weight again. "I suppose I could take her to my place."

Shaking her head, Cyrene made a decision. "No, the girl has enough against her now. Word of the attack will spread, and her living with a single man will not make things easier for her. Come," she ordered with a firm nod of her head, "she'll stay with me. I've got an empty room now that Xena is gone, and my daughter won't mind." A sad smile softened the older woman's features. "This little one will need all the love she can get right now, and I don't think that she's going to find it anywhere else."

The healer mentally wiped his brow, grateful that the innkeeper had taken the burden from his shoulders. Although he would have been more than happy to help Gabrielle, he knew that his practice would have been harmed when word of her father's disownment would cause more than one villager to avoid her and all that were associated with her. He followed Cyrene to her inn and deposited the bard in Xena's bed. Sure that she would sleep through the night, he gave his leave, promising that he would return the next day when time permitted.

Xena studied the ranks of soldiers that had been assembled to challenge her. This was a test to determine if she was suitable to serve under the master to whom she had gone for training. She could see out of the corner of her eye the old man as he sat upon a throne that overlooked the sparring arena. He was not what she had expected.

Shaking off the memories of her trip to get where she was, Xena concentrated on the ten men that she would face. They were of varying skills, from flag-bearer to mounted officer, and she was confident that she would give her potential mentor a good showing.

At a spoken signal, two flag-bearers broke from the line and approached her with the simple swords ready to attack. With an ear-shattering battlecry, she somersaulted over their heads and dealt them quick blows to their heads, knocking them unconscious to the dirt. She moved away from them so that she would have enough room to maneuver and waited for the second wave.

She did not wait long, for two foot soldiers approached her with more caution. A feral smile stretched over her bared teeth and she silently laughed with excitement. To her it was like a game that tested her skills against theirs.

The war master observed in silence as he studied the raw talent that was displayed. His experienced eyes followed her fluid movements, her parries and her thrusts. He watched as his men fell at her feet, wounded or incapacitated. When the final two, the mounted officers, ranked generals in his army, had difficulty with the wildness that unleashed from the woman warrior's powerful body, his eyes narrowed in contemplation.

She was undisciplined and careless, taking unnecessary risks in order to draw attacks that would leave an opening for her own offense. He saw the battlelust as it brightened in her eyes and knew that she would have to learn control, to tame the fire that coursed through her veins. When the woman finally disarmed her last opponent with a spinning kick that numbed his grip, the master stood and demanded attention.

Xena stood straight and approached the dais. She knelt and bowed her head in respect. The fire still danced in her eyes, but she willed herself to patience as she waited for the master's verdict.

"You are accepted," the old man stated in a surprisingly strong voice. "Come, Erok will show you to your quarters."

Without a second glance to the men who still writhed in the dirt behind her, Xena rose and followed the black-robed servant who had ushered her into the arena. She resisted the urge to jump and shout with her excitement, for she knew that she was now under the tutelage of a great man, and he would expect nothing but the best behavior from her. And she planned to deliver.

She was led to a simple row of buildings that housed the students. When she entered the structure, she discovered that the students slept in small barracks that housed up to ten men at a time. Since it was still early in the afternoon, the hut was empty, and she assumed that the other occupants were at classes.

"You may store your gear here," Erok said as he tapped a small chest with his booted toe. You sleep there," he finished with a nod of his sandy-haired head. "Breakfast call is at the four mark after midnight and your training begins at the fifth. All are required to wear a uniform and sash that denote their rank. These will be provided for you in the morning. I will leave you to stow your gear, and then I will call you when Master Lao is ready for your audience."

Xena bowed her head, unsure of the protocol demanded to the servant rank and watched as the small man left her alone in the hut. She dropped her bag on the floor next to the chest and crossed the room to her pallet. She sat carefully on the edge, unsure whether she was living in some dream. She took a moment to reflect on her good fortune and gave a light chuckle to her disbelief. This was as real as her sword and armor. Not sure how long she had until she was called, she rose and began to empty her bags and arrange their contents in her chest.

A half-hour later, she heard Erok's approach and stood to attention before he had an opportunity to enter the hut. He nodded with approval and beckoned her to follow with a crook of his finger. "Come, Master Lao will see you now."

She took in all the details of the maze that was the master's compound. Rows of barracks were laid out in a circle around a central dining hall, while the master's dwelling was situated high on a hill that was easily defended. Her powerful legs took the cut-stone steps easily to the modest house, and she was breathing easily by the time that she crested the top. She waited as Erok signaled their arrival with a tug on a rope that rang a bell within.

A dark-haired woman whose study seemed to catch a glimpse of the warrior's soul opened the door. With a word of dismissal, she thanked Erok and stepped aside for Xena to enter. "All weapons are removed upon crossing this threshold," she said as she waited patiently for the tall woman to remove her sword.

Xena complied without protest, not wanting to offend the woman or her master. The servant's face was void of all emotion, but she could feel the olive-skinned woman's eyes on her every movement. The woman was serene; her voice had been soothing, and yet commanding. Xena figured that perhaps she was a servant of rank who had been trained to receive guests and manage the master's household.

Hanging her weapons on the available hooks in the receiving chamber, Xena turned to the servant and raised her hands to show that she was now unarmed. The servant nodded and turned to walk down a barren hall to a massive wooden door. She pulled it open with surprising ease and bade the warrior to enter.

Silks of bright color and tools of war adorned the walls of the opulent audience room. Her eyes quickly observed all the details as she followed the servant to the foot of the master's throne. She blinked in surprise when the servant seated herself at the right hand of the master, but she remembered her own position and knelt in respect.

"You may rise, warrior," the woman ordered softly.

Xena complied and raised her eyes, not sure whom she should direct her attention. Concentrating instead on a spot between the two, she waited to be addressed.

"You have shown great promise, Xena of Amphipolis," the old man began, "but you must learn control and discipline. I will teach the skills your body must learn, and my wife Lao Ma will teach you lessons to strengthen your mind and spirit."

The student barely hid her surprise at the revelation of the woman's identity. She was the master's wife, yet she seemed to also be his equal.

"You will above all, learn a code of honor here," he continued. "You will not quit, you will not waver."

Xena nodded her agreement with a slight movement of her head, yet held her words.

"Erok explained the general routine," he said, sure that the servant had, "but my wife shall give you more details of what is expected of you here."

The student's eyes met his, and Xena bowed her head in understanding. She gasped when she felt the woman take her arm. She had not heard Lao Ma move from her seat, nor felt her presence. Her blue eyes widened in bewilderment and the woman smiled gently.

"Come, Xena, I will tell you all that you need to know before your lessons begin tomorrow."

She was led to a smaller room with walls covered by fragile tapestries. She took an offered chair and watched as the unassuming woman poured her a drink. Taking the goblet with a word of thanks, she choked with the first taste.

"You do not like water," Lao Ma questioned with a glimmer of amusement dancing in her dark eyes.

"Forgive me, mistress," Xena pleaded. "I assumed it was wine," she said as she caught her breath. "It took me by surprise, is all."

Lao Ma chuckled, surprising her student. "Never assume anything, Xena." The woman smiled suddenly. "But for future reference, no alcohol is permitted in this camp."

The warrior's brows furrowed in disappointment, which caused another round of chuckles from her mentor.

Lao Ma laid a comforting hand on the warrior's shoulders. "Don't worry, Xena. It will not be that horrible. In time, you will forget all of the distractions you once knew." The woman seated herself next to Xena and watched as the warrior pondered her words. "Enough of this," she announced, patting Xena's hands which were folded on the table. "I will tell you of your schedule."

Xena listened quietly as she realized how rigorous her days would be. After breakfast, she would join the rest of the students in an exercise of physical discipline that would promote flexibility and endurance. For two hours, she would train her body to become a weapon in itself. After an hour's break, she would join those of her unit to learn the ways of the sword and defense. After that, they would learn strategy and tactics. Two hours of lessons and another break that included lunch would conclude the morning's lessons. The afternoon consisted of two hours mental exercises followed by another break, two hours of hand-to-hand combat followed by dinner and a social hour. The evening would be finished with an hour's time of meditation and sleep at nine marks after mid-day.

As Lao Ma listed the activities that would occupy her in a smooth, calming voice, Xena studied the instructor who would teach what had been called "mental exercises." She found the serene woman to be intriguing and fascinating in the way that she spoke and moved. She was like the surface of a calm pond. Another chuckle brought the warrior out of her musings.

"Is it that terrible, warrior?"

Xena returned the warm smile and shook her head. "I can keep up with that. It isn't so different from what I've done in the past."

Lao Ma smiled enigmatically. "You will be pushed to the limits of your endurance here, Xena, and then some. Your mind will ache, as well as your body, at the end of every day."

"I will succeed," the student swore.

Lao Ma nodded her head in approval. "Come, Xena. You will use this time to learn the layout of the compound. Erok will be happy to show you all you will need to know. If you have any questions, do not be afraid to ask."

Xena thanked the woman as she was led to the door and her weapons were returned to her.

"We will see you on the field tomorrow at five. Rest well, for the next year of your life will be the hardest you will ever know." Lao Ma said as the warrior exited the house.

Xena nodded and joined Erok who was waiting for her outside. "I thank you for your help and advice, Master Lao."

Lao Ma shook her head in denial. "Only one here calls himself that. I am Lao Ma, teacher, or if you prefer, mistress."

Xena stared at her until the woman shut the door, effectively ending any remark the warrior might have made. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she followed the silent servant who would introduce her to the beginning of what she was sure would be the greatest time of her life.

Cyrene abandoned the dough she had been kneading when she heard the scream coming from her daughter's room. Wiping her hands on her apron as she hurried to the room next to the kitchen, she called for Lyceus to bring some water and rags. When she opened the door, she found Gabrielle sitting up in bed, Joxer's shirt still hanging over her own tattered clothes. The young woman was searching frantically, muttering for help. The innkeeper's eyes began to well with tears when she heard the frail whispers.

"Xena," Gabrielle cried, disoriented and unsure of where she was. "Please, Xena, please make him go away."

Crossing to cradle the trembling bard in her arms, Cyrene felt the tears heavy with sadness, fall from her lashes. "There, Sunshine, don't cry. You're safe here."

Hearing the familiar voice, Gabrielle raised her head and blinked her bleary eyes. "Cyrene?"

"Yes, sweetie, it's me. How are you feeling this morning?"

Gabrielle shuddered as memories of Perdicus' attack flashed through her mind with aching clarity. The sound of Lyceus shouting as he entered the room with the items his mother had requested made her cringe in response.

"Hush, now," Cyrene cooed. "It's only Ly, he's here to help you, all right?"

Fixing her eyes intensely on the young man who stood in the doorway, Gabrielle recognized Lyceus as the boy with whom she had played and shared stories and fantasies, ever since she could remember. Her eyes dulled when she realized that she would never be that carefree little girl again, but she nodded her acceptance of his presence.

"Good," the innkeeper praised, happy that her young charge was not going to be skittish around all men. Turning to her son, she fixed the staring boy with a warning look. "Lyceus, would you mind fetching a bowl of broth for Gabrielle?"

The young man tore his eyes from his friend who had been beaten, and as his mother had bluntly informed him, raped. A rage welled up within, a fierce urge to protect the once-effervescent girl who had seen more darkness in one night than she had all her life. His eyes softened when Gabrielle looked at him with wavering trust and he hurried to do his mother's bidding.

"Cyrene?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Why am I here? Why aren't I at home?"

The innkeeper cleared her throat. Normally, she was not one to dance around a subject, but Gabrielle's instability called for some sort of gentle tact. "Uh, honey, your father, he uh...."

"He blames me, doesn't he," Gabrielle finished as she lowered her head. "I'd blame me, too, if I were him. I was stupid, and trusting. I thought that I could handle myself," she yelled, punching the pallet for emphasis.

Cyrene captured the bard's hands in her own and pulled the crying woman into her arms. "No, honey. It was not your fault. You did nothing wrong."

"I must have," Gabrielle replied in a quiet, strangled whisper. "I must have done something to make him hurt me."

"Who hurt you, Gabrielle? Who did this to you?"

The bard looked up into the older woman's face that had gone blank with suppressed fury. Trusting that Cyrene would not rail at her, she answered, "P...Perd...icus."

"I'm going to kill him!"

Cyrene and Gabrielle both looked up into Lyceus' face. His pale green eyes sparked with an inhuman desire and his jaw was tight with emotion. He set the bowl of broth on the bedside table and looked at Gabrielle with a sorrow that conveyed his own pain.

"He was supposed to be our friend...your friend," he ground out as his fists clenched. "And I swear on my life for yours, Gabrielle, I will avenge you."

"Lyceus, don't you dare even consider it," Cyrene hissed. "Let the authorities handle it."

The young man began pacing and shaking his head in disbelief. "You honestly believe that Parmac will prosecute him? He doesn't care one way or the other. As long as he has his compensation, he pretends to have a job."

"Now you listen to me, young man. I will not allow you to seek revenge for this. That is not your prerogative."

Lyceus snorted and threw his hands up in the air. "Right. Only her father can seek retribution. And we all know how he feels about Gabrielle now, don't we? He disowned her. She is no longer family to him. He won't do anything, and that...that...son of a Bacchae will go unpunished."

Gabrielle winced as her defender's voice rose in pitch and volume the longer he spoke. Tears began anew when she heard of her father's actions. She was truly alone now. She had no family and Xena had deserted her. The realization was like a hot sword piercing through the armor she had built up for the woman who had deserted her. "No," she wailed as she struggled against Cyrene's hold. "No, leave me alone!"

"Dammit, Lyceus, go fetch Hippocrates. Now!" Cyrene tightened her hold and spoke soft nonsensical words in the flailing woman's hair. As he was already on his way over, the healer arrived quicker than she had expected.

"What happened," he asked as he withdrew a packet of powder and began to mix it into a cup of water.

"I don't know, she just started screaming and fighting to get away," Cyrene said quietly, rocking the sobbing woman in her arms.

"Here," Hippocrates said as he crossed to the bed, "let's get her to drink this, and she'll calm down enough."

Cyrene lifted Gabrielle's head and stroked the dampness off her cheek. "Gabrielle, sweetie, come on, the healer says this will make you feel better, so be a good little girl and drink it all. Come on, now," she urged with a lilting voice.

Gabrielle complied and only a flicker of distaste crossed her otherwise flaccid features. Within a quarter-hour, she was calm and staring dazedly at the ceiling.

The healer checked her injuries, both seen and unseen. "She's healing nicely," he explained as he washed a few of the deeper cuts. "Just keep these clean. I'll leave some herbs to help her sleep tonight, and then I'll be back tomorrow." He rose and gathered his jars and packed them into his leather bag. "Oh, by the way," he said as he turned his head to see his patient, "Lila stopped by my place this morning and dropped off a bundle of her stuff. I left it on the bar for her."

Tucking the blankets around Gabrielle's bruised body, Cyrene sighed. "Herod hasn't changed his mind has he?"

Hippocrates raised his brow in question. "I thought you said he never changes his mind."

The innkeeper shrugged as her brows gathered in thought. "I could always hope that there is a first time," she mumbled.

"Well, I have to be going, now. Just remember, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, all right?"

Nodding absently, Cyrene did not notice when the healer had left her alone in the room with the sedated bard. She was startled at the sound of a discrete cough. Looking up, she found both of her sons watching her carefully. "What?"

"The breakfast crowd is starting to seat itself," Toris announced as he dropped a wrapped bundle on the floor beside the door.

Cyrene nodded and bent low to whisper in the bard's ear. "Honey, I've got to go to work now, but I'll be right out there. If you need anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask. All right?"

Gabrielle resisted the urge to cling to the older woman. "I'll be fine," she replied a bit raggedly. She turned away her head to avoid Cyrene's intense scrutiny and shifted her weight. "Honest."

"All right, then. Remember, anything, all right?"

The bard nodded and waited for the woman and her two sons to leave her in private. When the door closed behind them, effectively muting the growing noise in the common room, Gabrielle relaxed into the soft mattress and cried.

It had been her first sexual experience, and it had been wrought with violence and pain. She felt dirty and longed to soak in a cleansing tub until she just melted away. With a strangled sob, she thought that nobody would want her now. She felt sullied and unattractive. She imagined herself dying alone and loveless.

Gabrielle wiped the tears off her damp cheek and snuggled under the bed covers. The room she slept in was familiar. It reminded her of pleasant childhood times. Gabrielle had been inside it many times, and she recognized a faint drawing on the far wall. She had made that drawing herself. It was of a brave warrior rescuing a princess from certain death. Cyrene had been furious, but Xena had taken responsibility for the artwork, so as not to get the younger Gabrielle into trouble. The morning after that, the bard had greeted her friend with an even greater respect, especially when the taller girl had winced with each step.

Rolling onto her back, Gabrielle studied the knotholes in the ceiling beam above the bed. She missed Xena. She wanted the warrior back in Amphipolis, where part of her wanted to scream and yell because the warrior had not been there to protect her, and part of her wanted to bury herself in the strong arms that offered protection from the entire world. .

Xena collapsed onto the sparse patch of grass and fanned her sweaty face with a callused hand. She had already been with Master Lao for a month's time, and she still could not believe the pace that she had to keep. The weapons and hand-to-hand sparring were nothing like the sessions she had in Amphipolis. She looked a few paces away to one of her peers and smiled inwardly. There were several that were worse off than she was.

She used the meditative techniques taught by Lao Ma to slow her breathing and her heart rate. Control was one of the most important lessons she was learning. For a warrior who thrived on the action of battle, one whose blood fired and sang with a primal fury, it was a lesson that strained her more than any physical exercise.

Master Lao's teachers were relentless and accepted no mistake, no fault. Lao Ma's classes on critical thinking and meditative technique were just as exhausting. The monotony of endless lessons was broken by a few breaks that always seemed too short.

Bells ringing through the compound signaled that lunch was ready to be served, and Xena flipped up into a standing position. She had learned that she preferred a table that was relatively quiet; she would have to get to the dining hall early. Otherwise, she would find herself trying to choose between the ranks of the boastful and the doubtful. Neither interested her, however, so she preferred to find an empty table. Once seated and eating, she allowed those who were of a like contemplative mind to sit with her and enjoy the silence.

She nodded in greeting to two warriors who joined her without spoken question. They were both strong men who were more than capable of holding their own on the battlefield, and neither of them had made any disparaging comments about her gender. They accepted her as a warrior and as a person. For that, she accepted their presence.

Muted conversation buzzed through the hall, but those at Xena's table ate silently and observed their peers. Their meal consisted of venison stew and bread. It was nothing fancy, but it was filling, enough to get them through their afternoon lessons until dinner time.

Another bell signaled the end of lunch and the warrior-students filed out of the hall in an orderly fashion and proceeded to the open-air pavilion in which Lao Ma put them through their mental exercises. For two hours, Xena learned how to master her emotions. She learned how to tame the beast within that craved an enemy's blood. She learned how to mask her feelings and her intentions.

When the class was over, Xena rose with a heavy sigh and waited in line to retrieve her weapons outside of the pavilion. A soft touch on her forearm caused her to turn her head sharply, but she was privately thrilled that she did not jump at the unexpected contact.

"May I speak with you for a moment, Xena?"

The warrior bowed with respect to her teacher and stepped out of line to follow the serene woman.

When they were a short distance from the rest of the class, Lao Ma turned and smiled mysteriously. "Xena," she chuckled quietly, "I can't help but wonder what pain you are in during my class," she began. "You always have such an intense look on your face."

Xena bowed her head once more and blushed. "Forgive me, mistress, but I am still having trouble understanding why I cannot enjoy battle," she admitted.

Lao Ma sighed and tilted the warrior's confused blue eyes down to her own compassionate brown. "My lessons are not to be understood, Xena...they are to be lived. You must control your body and your emotions. If you let them control you, your decisions will be irrational and foolish."

The tall woman shook her head and bit her lip. "But how can I? I am a warrior. Often, it is only through the fire that I survive a battle."

"That is the difficult part, is it not," the teacher asked rhetorically. "You must master your spirit, as well as your body. You are strong, warrior. You can do it."

Xena nodded absently as she pondered Lao Ma's words. "I will meditate on it tonight, mistress," she vowed solemnly.

With a bow, the teacher dismissed her student. Lao Ma watched as Xena collected her weapons and returned them to her body like a long-lost comfort. She smiled yet again, thinking of the lone woman of forty students that her husband had accepted in his camp. The young warrior was so full of promise, but she needed experience to understand that which she was taught...experience that she would not get isolated in a secure war camp.

After leaving the pavilion, Xena wandered to the isolated stand of trees where she preferred to spend the break before she had to return to her lessons. Her mind ached as she pondered Lao Ma's words, and with a snarl of frustration, she mentally closed the door on any further attempts. With a weary sigh, she studied the movements through the camp.

Master Lao's lieutenants and servants mixed freely with students, and all enjoyed a subdued relationship of warrior camaraderie. She was accepted by most in the same manner, but she was close to none. She had isolated herself.

The students of Master Lao's war camp were not permitted to communicate with the outside world. The warriors-in-training were required to concentrate all their energy on learning their craft. Influences from outside would only weaken their attention and dilute their training. It was a price that Xena did not mind paying. She quickly learned the value of solitude and singularity of purpose.

With this in mind, the warrior woman raised herself into a sitting position, cross-legged and straight of back. With steady, even breathing, she cleared her mind of all thoughts, all purpose and will, and she focused on the energy within her body. As Lao Ma had taught her, she focused her purpose on gathering that energy towards her center of being, and she floated within its power.

A bell rang, and Xena shook off the feeling of fluidity that had enveloped her body. Raising her eyes to find the sun lower towards the horizon, she realized that the break had ended. When she realized that hand-to-hand combat was next, her body shifted into battle mode, and she sprang to her feet, eager to join the contests that were part of the lessons.

She ran towards the arena, her long-legged lope eating the paces easily. She entered the low-walled structure and fell into rank with her fellow students, standing proud and strong as Master Lao took his accustomed seat at the far end of the field. Her eyes focused on him until the combat master paced in front of the queues of warriors. After a quick explanation of the day's exercise, he ordered them to separate and spread out in groups of two.

Xena's partner stepped in front of her, and she fought her grin as she bent her head to look him in the eye. He was a nice man; always smiling and cracking jokes, but she knew that under the easy-going exterior, he was a warrior of unique speed and skill. While on the short side, he used his other abilities to compensate against size. "Iolaus."

The blonde man nodded in greeting and grinned up at the woman. "Hey there, Xena. Guess it's time for you to kick my butt again, huh?"

Xena quirked her brow, but her mirth was evident in the depths of her eyes. "Maybe I'll go easy on you," she whispered as they moved off to their designated square of combat.

"Yeah, right, and some day, I'll meet Hercules," the short man snorted before taking a readied stance.

Chuckling low, the tall woman centered her weight over her spread legs and brought her arms and fists up into attack position. "You never know," she said as she shifted her feet slightly. "I hear he's finished his labors and wanders the land now. You could run into him anywhere." Without warning, she struck out with her right arm.

"Uh, huh," Iolaus responded with a wince as he blocked the strike with a forearm. "Anywhere but here."

They traded light banter, as their exercise became more complex, as their attacks became faster and stronger. With a final 'oof,' Iolaus landed hard on his backside.

"So much for taking it easy on me," he grumbled good-naturedly as Xena assisted him to his feet.

"Well, you know how I hate to pull punches," Xena answered as she calmed her breathing and straightened her loose tunic.

The shorter warrior shrugged his shoulders and chuckled. "Well, most girls pull hair," he joked, ducking as a rock-hard fist was aimed for his head. "You know, you really gotta learn how to ignore your opponent," he retorted as he jumped over a leg sweep. "Can't have them throwing your concentration and balance off," he continued as he caught his second wind. "And you know what Lao Ma says...'balance is key.'"

Xena narrowed her eyes and forced herself not to hear her opponent's endless prattle. Mentally, she added another skill to his attributes. Iolaus could talk the feathers off a cranky rooster, she thought with a smirk. A few moves later and the man was on his back again.

"I guess you wouldn't want to come down here and join me, would you," he asked with a wince when he saw the fire leap into her eyes. "Heh, guess not."

Again, Xena helped him to his feet, but not before she leaned low to hiss into his ear, "You're lucky I like you," she warned. "I've killed men for less," she lied convincingly.

Iolaus nodded his head vigorously. "Okay, then," he rasped as he took a step backwards, "I won't even consider asking you to join me in a bath." He chuckled weakly, hoping that the intimidating woman would see his words as the joke that they were. When he saw her smile wide, he raised a hand that trembled slightly, and wiped the perspiration from his brow. "Tough as nails, Xena. You are definitely tough as nails."

"I have to be, Iolaus. I'd get no where in this world if I wasn't," she explained seriously. It angered her; the state of the world where a woman was not even considered a person, yet alone capable of a complex thought. Taking a deep breath to expel her emotions, she again concentrated on her exercises and prepared to defend her partner's attack.

Gabrielle stood at the window in her room and watched the night stars come out to sparkle. She absently rubbed her belly and brooded a moment before Cyrene's words came back to her. Like a mantra, she whispered them over and over in her head.

Xena had been gone for almost eight months, and there was still no word from her. Gabrielle sent up a silent prayer, asking that the gods watch over her. For herself, she could spare no requests. Most of the memories from Perdicus' attack were dim nightmares that only surfaced when she happened to see him out of a window, or heard a customer speak of him. She no longer went out of the tavern. Cyrene understood, and kept her busy enough in the kitchen, away from prying eyes, away from the cruel whispers.

It was not enough that all of Amphipolis had heard of the attack and rape. Now, she bore the physical evidence, as well. Looking down at her body, Gabrielle could not keep a small smile from teasing her lips. After the first initial shock and denial, after a long conversation with the woman she now considered her mother, she accepted the child she was carrying as her own. Somewhere, deep within, she had found the strength to accept the blessing despite its violent conception.

There was one regrettable result of the rape, though. Herodotus had taken her mother and sister west to Poteidaia. She was sure that he had taken them away because of the shame he felt. He was embarrassed that his oldest daughter was unwed and pregnant. Even though his disownment was public knowledge, the villagers would not forget that the unfortunate girl was his.

She had seen them leave. Her father had been sitting atop their rickety wagon, swearing at the worn nag that pulled him and everything he owned. Her mother and Lila had walked beside the wagon; their eyes had been fixed upon the meager possessions tied precariously to the rotted bed. No one had seen her watching from her window. She had seen only their backs as they walked out of her life.

Gabrielle smiled sadly when the night's breeze caressed her face.

There were times when she believed that she was utterly alone. She would have broken down after the rape if it were not for Cyrene's relentless affection and care. Now, she was considered a daughter and sister by loving people she had known all her life. The majority of Amphipolis, though, was still cold and cruel.

With a deep sigh, the bard returned her attention to the dark evening sky. She was six, almost seven months along in her pregnancy, and she felt as slow and awkward as a three-footed cow. A low rumble disrupted the quiet solitude she had been enjoying and she smiled crookedly. Although she had only eaten dinner a few hours past, she was hungry again. She waited a moment, shaking her head, until an insistent kick startled her. "All right, little one, I get the message loud and clear," she whispered. Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, she left her room to find a snack that would hold her over until breakfast the next day.

The tavern was all but empty save for a few regulars who occupied one dark corner until Cyrene chased them out after closing every evening. They were older men, who had no families, no loved ones to whom to return, so they kept each other company with stories of the old days and tankards of sweet ale. When all three stopped talking and turned to stare at her, Gabrielle held her head high and continued to the kitchen, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of seeing the hurt that lined her face.

Absently, she took a bowl off the drying rack and gathered several pieces of fruit and a small loaf of sweet bread. She poured herself a tankard of water and left the kitchen to return to her room. She was brought up short by the stooped body of one of the old men. She clutched her bowl tighter to her chest so that she did not drop it; she turned round, frightened eyes on him. "C...Can I help you?"

The old man smacked his gums in the semblance of a soothing noise, and he raised a hand to her belly.

A wave of paralyzing terror washed over her as she could only watch as he stroked her stomach.

"'Twas a sad thing to be done to ye, Sunshine," he rasped past thin lips. "If'n you need a thing at all, ye come an' see me. I got me some thin's that me wife an' daughter left when theys passed on. If'n ye be needin' clothes or the like."

Gabrielle's fear turned to surprise. "Thank you," she whispered as tears began to well and fall.

"Tsk, there," the old man admonished as he pulled out a stained linen. "Ye not be cryin' fer my wantin' to help ye."

Gabrielle set the food and drink on a nearby table and wiped her eyes with the proffered cloth. "I just never expected anyone to actually be nice to me after...."

"Aught," the old man muttered, "I knew the laddie 'twas no good. 'Is eyes, they's hard and cold. 'Twas just a matter of time afore 'e hurt an innocent one."

"But everyone...they blame me for what happened."

A second man snorted as the other two joined the bard and the first old man. "Gabby, me little girl, they are fools. You were the brightest light to ever shine upon this dull little place, and gods willing, 'twill be so again."

"Aye," the third joined in as he lowered his tankard to the table, "You've got to be a strong one. For you and the wee babe," he advised.

"Here, child, eat up now. Even our deaf ears can hear your belly a'rumblin'," the second one encouraged.

Gabrielle sat with the three old men, enjoying their company and listening carefully as they regaled her with lively stories of their youth. So caught up in their laughter and jests, she missed Cyrene coming down the stairs to clean the tavern, missed seeing the innkeeper's face light with a warm smile and her eyes shining with grateful tears.

"No, no, no," the second man interrupted the first, "'Twas Milaus that set the bull loose in the field."

The first man snorted in disbelief and continued his tale. "Don' much matter, now, does it, Serypides? After that bull came a'chargin' a'toward me an' my Sera, the day was pretty much ruined."

"I bet that was one memorable proposal," Gabrielle offered as she finished her last bite of bread.

"Aye, that 'twas, Sunshine, that 'twas," he agreed.

Cyrene hated to break up the little party that had put her daughter in such a happy mood, but hard work and age tended to not mix well with late nights, and she was beginning to get an ache in her back. "All right, you three," she called as she tossed her cleaning rag into a half-filled bucket of water, "time to move along."

The three men began their nightly ritual of grumbling and protesting the rude dismissal, but Gabrielle grinned when the first winked and smiled at her.

"Come on," Cyrene urged as she helped open the door. "Good night, Apagron," she said as the first man passed.

"An' a good one to ye, fair lass."

Cyrene rolled her eyes dramatically and cuffed him playfully on the head. "Enough of that, now," she warned. "Good night, Serypides," she said with a nod to the second.

"'Til tomorrow," he promised.

The innkeeper watched as the third man cast one last warm look towards Gabrielle before she wrapped an arm across his still-strong shoulders. "Good night, Meleager."

"Take care of the little one, Cyrene. She's special, she is."

"I know," the woman answered as she squeezed his shoulders. "Special tomorrow is mutton stew," she said before he had a chance to ask the predicted question.

With a soft smile, Meleager glanced up to the night sky and inhaled deeply. "Beautiful night," he called over his shoulder.

Cyrene waved farewell to him as she watched the three men split up and return to their respective homes. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and she hoped, the chance to hear Gabrielle laugh again.

Shutting the tavern door and bolting it closed, the innkeeper raised bleary eyes to find her daughter bending to lift the bucket of water she had used for cleaning. "Don't you even think about it, young woman," she warned as she closed the space between them with quick strides.

"It's not that heavy," Gabrielle argued as she grasped the rope handle firmly.

"Sweetheart, if you even lift that bucket a sow's hair off the floor, I will not hesitate to put you over my knee and spank some sense into you."

Gabrielle looked up through her bangs to see the serious look on her mother's face. Blushing at the thought of such an indignity, she released her hold on the handle and straightened with a slight wince.

"Uh, huh," Cyrene muttered as she moved to the younger woman's side. "You can't continue the way you were, Gabrielle," she said as she began to rub the pregnant woman's back and guide her to her room at the same time. "For as small as you are, and so far into your pregnancy, your body is going to start giving you hints that it needs to rest before the birthing time arrives. Now, do as I have told you a million times, and go to bed."

"I'm not an invalid," the younger woman mumbled.

Although on in years, the innkeeper still had sharp ears. "I know, sweetheart, but if you plan on keeping late night company with that bunch, you are going to need all the rest you can get."

Gabrielle considered the advice and nodded in agreement. "All right."

After she allowed Cyrene to tuck her into bed, Gabrielle grasped the older woman's hand. "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Those guys were awful nice to me. Why were they so nice, when everybody else treats me like a leper?"

Cyrene shook her head sadly and bowed her head to kiss her daughter's forehead. "Because they know how you feel, my dear. When they could no longer plow their fields or fight to defend the village, they, too, became invisible to the others. They had lost their usefulness, and with it, a reason to live."

"That's why you let them stay so late?"

"They need to know that someone cares about them. They share a friendship that goes beyond time spent growing up. They found that they are needed to ensure another's happiness."

"And they wanted to see me happy," Gabrielle asked with a curious tilt to her brow.

Cyrene ruffled her daughter's bangs and grinned. "Your laughter is a music that could make any man feel young again," she revealed. When the young woman blushed with surprise and pleasure, she chuckled. "I keep up telling you such things, and you're head will likely grow to rival your tummy." The innkeeper stood and walked towards the door.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Gabrielle?"

"Good night and...I love you."

Tears welled in the innkeeper's eyes as she blew a kiss towards the younger woman. "Get some sleep," she ordered thickly.

"I promise."

Xena grunted as she went through her sword drills, knowing that all eyes were on her. She had been training with Master Lao for seven months already and had proven herself a capable warrior. There were a few new arrivals; they ridiculed the fact that there was a woman training among them. She ignored the anger that their comments fired within her chest and accepted the only recourse was to prove them wrong. So, she drilled twice as hard, she fought twice as aggressive.

Still, there was one man, a common soldier, who refused to accept her as a warrior, and she found herself unable to find the peace and balance for which she had searched so hard. She was reluctant to approach Master Lao with the issue, for she saw it as a weakness within herself.

Iolaus had finished his twelve months with the master, so he had gone with about ten others, eager to test their new skills in a hostile world. Without her partner, without the one man who understood the additional battles she faced because of her sex, she found herself slowly losing her grasp on her control.

Tired of fighting the fire that always raged during sparring sessions, she let her inner demon loose, often hurting her opponents in the process. Still, Cortese mocked her skills. She could feel her tenuous grip on control weakening.

One evening, as she lay awake in bed, she considered her options. A fortnight of dealing with her tormentor was wearing her patience thin. Her concentration was failing. Lao Ma had already approached her with concern for her well being. Life in the war camp was losing its appeal, and her wanderlust was fighting her efforts to follow through with her training.

The next morning dawned gray and clouds heavy and dark on the horizon promised a shower. Xena went through her morning routine and lessons without incident. When the hour of hand-to-hand sparring came, however, her scowl rivaled the thunderhead. She cast a surreptitious glance to the instructor, doubting the older man's wisdom.

As the students were paired, she joined her partner; her body was tense in lines of frustration. When she looked him in the eye and saw his derision, she ground her teeth in anger. Hearing the instructor's call to begin, Cortese bowed to her mockingly and grinned.

"Looks like I finally get to take you down a peg or two."

Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing the effect of his words, she lowered her head and regarded him through dark lashes. She saw how he licked his lips and bared his teeth.

"Time to show you what a real warrior is made of, little girl," he promised spitefully before attacking.

She sidestepped the punch aimed for her chest and brought up her knee to make jarring contact with his stomach. When he doubled over to catch his wind, her elbow drove home to the back of his neck.

Cortese glared at her skill and rolled his neck. "Looks like some girls are slow learn," he snarled, pushing himself to his feet. "Come and get me, bitch," he whispered with his arms wide.

Her experience sparring with Iolaus had taught her to ignore her adversary's taunting speech. The man she was facing, though, was not the blonde chatterbox. Cortese's words were not playful. They were like poisoned barbs that gouged and tainted. They hit their intended mark. She made a damnable mistake and reacted.

She knew what bloodlust was. Remembering Perdicus' battered body convulsing at her feet, her eyes hardened. It had scared her the first time. She had beaten the young man but had wanted to see him cowering in submission. She had wanted to feel his body break in her hands. His cries for mercy exhilarated her. His mewls of pain were seductive. The instant that he had cried out hoarsely for his mother was an epiphany.

She knew then the power she had; she held the prerogative of life or death. Perdicus had not been able to stop her. No one she faced in Amphipolis could have stopped her. She could have killed him because of a childish prank. Only her fear had stopped her from doing so. She had been afraid of the delicious spark of glee that had driven her beyond the necessary.

As she faced Cortese, she was no longer afraid. Her anger and pride demanded that he be silenced. Her primal rage lent her the strength of a wounded animal. When her opponent spat on her boots, she let the vicious fury loose.

He did not know what hit him except that it was hard and relentless. He vaguely heard his bones breaking. He was blinded when she broke his nose. A knife-edge blow cut off the air into his throat. He was numbed from the chest down when she broke his back with a savage kick.

When the blows stopped landing, he could hear other sounds besides his own tortured breathing. There were outraged shouts and agonizing screams as pandemonium raged around his dying body. A brief thought of the reward that the bearded man had promised him passed through his mind before his world went black.

She knelt on her knees; her hands were manacled behind her back. In a moment of lucidity, she saw the truth of her actions. Before her on the arena grounds, the bodies of eight men were displayed. They were a testament to her blind rage. They were silent witnesses to her trial.

Master Lao's face clearly showed his alarm and disappointment. In a voice loud enough to carry across the crowd of stunned warriors, he reminded her of the honor code. She had taken the life of a fellow student without clear purpose of self-defense. She had killed six others, as well as her instructor. She had betrayed her purpose and had dishonored her master. Her sentence was death.

She was returned to the dank cell that smelled of human feces and vermin. She was served no food for her rebellious stomach or water for her parched throat. Her head throbbed from the blow that had finally ended her dance of death. Her thoughts were slow when she realized her life would soon end. She was given all night to make peace with her gods before the sunrise found her dead.

Her hair hung limp and dirty with sweat and blood as she bowed her head in shame. She had failed horribly. She could hear her father's words of condemnation as they echoed through her mind.

She had only been eight when she had bloodied Toris' nose. She could no longer remember her reasoning then, but her father's response had been unforgettable. In front of the entire village, he had pulled her forcefully down the center street. His words had broken her heart. He had told her that her failure to control herself had shamed him. He had left not long after the incident. She had not seen him since and assumed that he had gone because of the mark she had put against his name.

As she sat in a stagnant pool of water, she remembered. The harsh sound of metal links upon damp rock reminded her that she had failed him again.

She looked up abruptly, torn from her thoughts of failure. A faint tingling along her spine caused the short hairs of her neck to stand painfully. A body stepped from the dark shadows of the corner and she gasped.

He was dressed in black leather; at his side was an intricate sword. His beard was neat and shaped to emphasize his full lips and high cheekbones. His voice when he spoke was like a lover's kiss.

"Come with me if you want to live."

She stared at his hand as if were a serpent coiled to strike. Her eyes widened when his glowed in the dim light.

Of its own accord, her hand reached out to find the solace that his tone promised. She did not want to die. She needed another chance to prove herself. His hand was warm as it closed over hers. Her manacles fell with a loud clatter when he waved his other hand. She returned the pressure when his hand squeezed hers tighter.

In hindsight, she would realize at another time in her life, that she had made her second mistake that day. She had trusted.

He led her through the camp and around the base of the hill upon which sat Master Lao's house. When they crossed the shallow river that marked northern boundary of the camp, she found Argo and her old gear waiting for her.

"When you are ready, I will be back," he promised as he dropped her hand and back away. He stepped into the shadows of the forest and disappeared. His last words hung on the air. "I promise, my love."

The battledress felt awkward at first but as she tightened laces and adjusted the cups over her breasts, she let an old excitement wash over her. Her boots were tight around calves that were thicker with new muscle, but her armor was a comfortable fit. Securing her scabbard on her back, she took a deep breath and committed herself to the course of action she had chosen. With a last thought from where she came, she mounted her warhorse. With a nudge of her heels, she rode towards her future.

Two months later, she was cursing her benefactor. On the road, she was even lonelier than she had ever been in the camp. Now, instead of a babble of conversation in the dining hall, she was assailed by deafening silence during her sparse meals. With Argo her only company, she grew more reserved and quiet.

Although no longer restricted by the enforced solitude of the war camp, she could not find the heart to send word to her mother. The shame of her failure burned and left angry wounds on her soul. The jeering of Cortese' ghost interrupted her nights, as she battled him in nightmares in which she could not move to defend his vicious attack of words or blade.

She could feel her control dissipating. She thought that something akin to madness was affecting her reasoning.

Three months after she had left the war camp, a band of slavers attacked her. They were collecting victims to be sold to foreign owners. All of her anger at herself, her weakness, started her fury anew. Her bloodlust claimed her senses, and she reduced the battle to a slaughter. She did not notice the wary looks she received when she freed the captives from their cages, nor did she sense the dark presence until he was breathing down her neck.

"So beautiful," he purred as he pressed his body to her back. "So bloody."

Xena shuddered when the stranger's heat ignited a fire within her body that magnified her bloodlust. A hunger unknown welled up within and escaped with a low growl.

"Ooh, I can feel it, Xena. You were meant to be mine. Only I can show you the way. Only I can make you the greatest, the most respected warrior in the world."

"Who are you," the warrior asked as she turned her head.

The stranger released her and stepped back so that she might turn to face him.

Her heart pounded heavy and her breathing became erratic as she saw the sultry look of promises fulfilled in the dark man's eyes which smoldered with carnal desire. She responded to his calling. "Ares," she gasped as he closed the distance between them.

"Give yourself to me, Xena, and I promise that men like Cortese will bow at your feet and beg for your mercy."

She moaned when his voice rough with passion, warmed her ear. She leaned closer seeking greater contact. Her body ached for his touch.

"Come to me, Xena. Together, we will conquer the world."

His words were never heard over the pounding of blood that deafened her to reason. She was tired of fighting herself and Ares promised so much. She gave control one last consideration; she silently begged her father's forgiveness. With an inhuman snarl, she grabbed the back of his head and buried her long fingers in his thick black hair. She saw a flicker of a satisfied smile before he crushed his lips to hers.

Inside, her body howled with satisfaction, with dark revelation. Her soul was consumed until only the smallest part cried out for her to reconsider. A last vision of who she used to be flashed through her mind as the god threw her against a tree and took her roughly. The moment that he consummated their relationship, she was lost.

Ares growled in victory. He had been following her progress from the day of the Harvest Festival when she had made a vow to become the greatest warrior of Greece. He had watched as she learned the skills that she needed to lead the most fearsome army the world would ever see. He had sent Cortese to drive her into his arms. He had planned for so long. He had planned well. The thrill of victory and the tight sheath she offered his throbbing desire, was enough to drive him over the edge into release.

The god's grunts of pleasure fed the fire that had been growing steadily in her groin. When Xena felt him release his seed, she joined him. She was now his...body...and soul. She drank greedily from his lips as he claimed them once again. She gasped when he gripped her hips and continued to thrust into her. Before she could express her surprise, she climaxed again and collapsed into his arms.

"So sweet, my daughter of death," he crooned. "Soon, I will have an army for you to lead across the land, and all will learn to respect the name of Xena, or they will die by your sword."

Xena lifted her face and she felt herself drawn into the dark pools of Ares' eyes. She would be respected. She would be feared. Her father would be proud. She watched as the god straightened her clothing and led her to a fire that she had not seen before killing the slavers. She complied without effort, when he laid her upon a luxurious bedroll.

Ares gazed down upon his new protégée and felt an unfamiliar twinge of affection. He had others before her. He would have others after age rendered her incapable of protecting herself. But looking into the smoky gray-blue eyes, he knew that none of them ever would, or ever could, compare to her singular beauty and passion. She would change the world, and she would do so for the glory of war, the glory of Ares.

Continued in Part Two

Comments can be sent to [email protected].