#but once she crosses That line for her loved one? shes done what xenas done forcmany years

[swanqueeneverafter]

The Once & Future Queen Pt.35

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Henry and Ella stand over Maria's crib, who is sleeping contentedly.) Ella: "Kinda makes you think huh? (Henry looks to her:) About having one of our own?" Henry: (Smiles:) "Yes. Absolutely." (Henry drops his gaze back to his sister.) Ella: (Nudging him with her shoulder:) "I didn't mean right away." Henry: (Sighs:) "Oh thank god." (They both laugh and share a kiss as the doorbell rings. Giving Henry a playful swat on the butt when he goes to answer the door, Ella returns her attention to her slumbering sister-in-law.) Front Door. (Opening the door, Henry sees a man standing on the porch with his back turned.) Henry: "Hello, can I help you?" Mordred: "Actually, you can. (He turns around:) Is Maria home?" Henry: "You! Get out of here and stay the hell away from my sister!" Mordred: "I'm afraid I can't do that." Ella: (Joining Henry at the door:) "Well there's no way we're letting you anywhere near Maria." Mordred: (Spots the kitchen knife in her hand:) "I can see you’re serious. Perhaps I'll call back at another time." Henry: (Mordred turns to leave:) "You come anywhere near this house again and I'll-" (Mordred disappears in a cloud of smoke. Slamming the door closed, Henry winces, instantly regretting it.) Ella: "Henry, she's sleeping!" Henry: "I know. Wait. (He listens but hears nothing:) Oh no. (Running towards the crib:) Oh no, no, no." Ella: (Following:) "Henry, what-" Henry: (Reaching the crib to see that it's now empty:) "Maria. She's gone!"

Dun Broch. (Merida paces nervously while Anastasia watches from her reclined position on the window seat.) Anastasia: "Will you relax? I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think." Merida: "You don't understand, I've never brought anyone home before." Anastasia: "What, never?" Merida: (Sighs:) "Back when my father died and I became next in line, the clans didn't want to be governed by a woman. I refused proposals from Lord Macintosh, Dingwall and MacGuffin. They exiled my mother and it almost cost my brothers their lives as well." Anastasia: "But you won them over in the end, Merida. You became their Queen." Merida: "Yes, but now there's us and I just don't know how the clans will react." (The doors open and Elinor enters alongside Drizella.) Elinor: "If there's one thing I've learned during my time at your father's side, Merida, it's that searching for universal approval is a fool's errand. (Drizella joins her sister on the window seat, pushing her legs to the side to make room for herself. Elinor takes her daughter's hands and continues:) And as far as love is concerned, that should never come easy. It's messy. It means arguing and making up and laughing and crying and struggling. And sometimes, it doesn't seem worth it. But it is. And, in the end, when you're in love, no matter what happens, you have each other. Don’t ever let anyone take that away from you.” Merida: “I won’t, I promise.” (Merida walks over and kneels in front of Anastasia. Noticing that Merida seems to be searching for the right words, Anastasia takes her hands in her own.) Anastasia: “I think I'm ready. If you are.” Merida: “For what?” Anastasia: “It’s finally time for me to leave Wonderland behind, and start a new adventure... with you?” Merida: (Smiles:) “I’d like that. Yeah, I’d bloody love it.” (Merida surges forward and kisses Anastasia passionately, bumping Drizella from the seat. Elinor helps her to her feet.) Drizella: (To Elinor:) “So... I guess the big question is, which room is mine?” (Elinor chuckles and they leave the room together, giving Merida and Anastasia their privacy.)

Storybrooke. Library. (Belle sits beside the unconscious body of her husband, when all eyes turn to see the cloud of smoke appear outside the library doors. Drawing his gun, Hook points it at the doorway until he sees Regina and Emma cross over the threshold.) Hook: (Holstering his weapon:) "Apologies, I thought you were Mordred coming back to finish the job." Henry: "Mom! (Henry and Ella cross the room to console each of them. Hugging Regina:) We're so sorry, it was Mordred he-" Regina: "We know. And it's not your fault, it's ours for leaving Maria unprotected." Ella: "I don't understand, how can you already know?" Morgana: (Walking into the library:) "I told them I had a feeling Mordred would want to go after the child again." Hook: (Draws his gun again:) "What the hell are you doing here?" Emma: "Relax, Hook, put it away. Morgana's with us now." Hook: "What are you talking about, Swan?" Emma: "She was cleansed at the Cauldron of Arianrhod." Hook: (Still pointing his gun at Morgana:) "Oh really? Well isn't that nice. (Raises his voice:) Does anyone here know what the bloody hell she's talking about or can we assume this one's got them under her spell?" (While Hook continues to glare at Morgana, Belle steps forward.) Belle: "I do. And if it's true then whatever darkness there was inside Morgana's heart has been purged." Emma: "It's true, Belle. Regina and I were there. Morgana came with us to try and talk sense to Mordred, but I see we're too late?" Belle: (Nods:) "He came here not long ago and ransacked the place. I sent Alice out for help and then Hook and Rumple turned up and all hell broke loose. Mordred used his magic to send Hook and Rumple flying. One of the bookshelves caught Rumple in the head and knocked him out. Hook managed to fire off a shot or two and Mordred fled."

(Regina kneels beside Rumplestiltskin, stroking his hair.) Regina: "Does anyone know what Mordred was after?" Belle: (Shakes her head:) "He left clutching a map of some kind, but I couldn't tell where-" Morgana: "I think I know where Mordred's headed." (Xena and Gabrielle enter the library and take in the carnage.) Xena: "Care to enlighten us?" Morgana: (Glares at Xena, then looks away:) "I believe he's headed to the Crystal Cave." Belle: (Gasps:) "It's the place where magic began." Morgana: (Nods:) "And it's where the Old Religion was founded." Gabrielle: "Why would Mordred be headed there?" Morgana: "He wants to take the child's power for himself. So that he can be invincible." Hook: "So that's it then. Mordred has Maria and the map and he could've magicked himself to the caves by now." Morgana: "The Crystal Cave is protected. You cannot gain entry through magical means. You have to walk there." Xena: "Yeah, well walking is something we're real good at, but we still don't have the map." Morgana: "We don't need one. I know where the caves are. I'm your map." Emma: "Then what the hell are we standing around for? Let's go." Zelena: (Entering:) "You're not going anywhere without me. (Emma turns to her:) I knew I should've killed that little bastard when I had the chance. Maybe it'll be third time lucky." Morgana: "No one is laying a hand on Mordred. I believe that he too can be saved." Emma: (At Zelena's questioning look:) "Turns out you were right. Morgana could be saved after all." Zelena: (Scoffs:) "All right. (To Morgana:) But if it comes down to saving Mordred or Maria, your little druid boy is done for." Morgana: (Stares at her for a long moment, then nods:) "Agreed."

Will & Tiana’s Apartment. (Tiana breaks an egg into a bowl and starts whisking when Will returns home.) Will: “There you are. Thought you'd be out celebrating. Morgana’s been ‘cleansed’ whatever that means and Anastasia was rescued and plans to stay in Dun Broch with Merida. So it appears Wonderland is solely yours once again, Your Majesty. People should be cooking beignets for you.” Tiana: “Cooking helps me clear my head. Or at least it used to.” Will: “All right, I can see something’s bothering you, so why don’t you put down the whisk and tell me what it is?” Tiana: (Puts down the bowl:) “I don't know who I am, Will. Part of me just wants to run the Rollin’ Bayou and have a life where all I have to worry about is the price of butter. But I realise that kind of simple life isn’t possible for me. When I first heard about what Anastasia was doing, I was pissed. That she could just pretend to still be the Queen of Wonderland for all that time and I didn’t even notice? It made me think that she was right, that maybe Wonderland is too big to manage by myself.” Will: “But you’re not by yourself, love.” Tiana: “I know, but look at Camelot and all the previously unknown forces coming out of the woodwork to take Guinevere’s throne. After taking some time to think about it, I’m not sure if someone were to make a play for Wonderland, that I’d give them much of a fight.” Will: “Tiana...” Tiana: “I mean it, Will. A real queen would be out there helping her people, and I'm hiding in here, stress baking.” Will: “Hey, hey, hey. Come on. (Wraps his arms around her:) Did you forget what happened during the Black Fairies curse? You were the leader of the rebellion that spanned across several realms. You provided a safe haven to all those who had lost their homes. The woman who saved those people, who saved me... That was a queen. It was my queen.” (Both chuckle.) Tiana: “You always did have a way with words, Will Scarlett.”

The Valley of The Fallen Kings. (The group of six walk along the valley between two large stone statues.) Gabrielle: "Is this place cursed?" Morgana: "No, but it is crawling with bandits. Which is why we must stay together. Without being able to use our powers, we won’t stand a chance.” Xena: (Scoffs:) “Speak for yourself.” Morgana: “I wouldn’t dare speak for you. My soul may have been cleansed back at the Cauldron, but the fact remains that you disfigured my sister.” Xena: “The same sister that locked you in a tower and twisted your mind against the world? Sounds like a little disfigurement was the least she had coming.” Gabrielle: “And I think you pretty much got even with Xena when you had her fight all of your soldiers for your entertainment. Let’s not lose focus as to why we’re here, all right?” (The group continues on, descending several stone steps.) Zelena: (Walking with Emma and Regina:) “No magic. What kind of ridiculous protection is that?” Emma: “I don’t like it very much either but if this is the only way of getting to this cave then we’re sure as hell going to do it.” Zelena: “If it’s even true, I mean we could be letting our guard down and walking into some trap concocted between Mordred and Morgana.” Regina: “Zelena, you were the one who told us that we should give Morgana another chance all along, remember?” Zelena: “Yes, but since when have you ever listened to me?” Regina: “Since we witnessed it with our own eyes. And like Emma said, what choice do we have?” (Up ahead, Xena hears a twig snap and bandits come running at them.) Xena: “Morgana, take cover!” (Unarmed, Morgana ducks down behind a nearby rock while Gabrielle draws her sais and turns to fight the men. Xena blocks the blow of one and pushes him to the ground. Gabrielle punches the other one and knocks him to the ground as the first one gets up. The first bandit goes after Morgana, who stumbles backwards onto the ground.) Morgana: “Help!” (Xena stabs him in the back, pulls the sword out.) Gabrielle: “Xena, behind you!” (Without looking, Xena flips her sword under her arm and stabs the other bandit about to attack her.)

(Spotting a whole group of bandits now running towards them, Gabrielle turns and shouts a warning to the others.) Gabrielle: “We’ve got company!” (Twirling her sword, Xena slashes two bandits when they run within reach. Gabrielle tosses her sai at another before launching herself at him. Emma draws her father’s sword while Regina raises her own.) Regina: “Take cover, Zelena. We can handle this.” (Also unarmed, Zelena has no choice but to obey. Sliding further into the ravine, Zelena finds herself standing with Morgana while the battle continues above them. Turning to watch the action, Morgana laments a missed opportunity.) Morgana: “If only I had my sword. It’s been years since I’ve had the chance to practice.” Zelena: (Rolling her eyes:) “What is it with you princesses and sword fighting? Do you get a group discount or did Daddy pay for a private tutor?” Morgana: “I’ve had the proper training since I was three years old.” Zelena: “Yeah, well hooray for you. (There is a yelp of pain and both women duck as a bandit rolls towards them. While he flies over and crashes to the forest floor, Morgana eyes his sword:) Don’t even think about it. I’m not going to be the only one out here who’s defenseless.” Morgana: (Smirks:) “I may not be armed, but that doesn’t make me defenseless.” (Morgana looks around and picks up a fist sized rock. Peering up at the ongoing fight, Morgana rears back and throws the rock into the air, hitting a bandit squarely between the shoulder blades, allowing Gabrielle to finish him off with ease.) Zelena: (Impressed:) “Not bad. But two can play that game.” Morgana: “Careful now, it’s not like throwing fireballs you know.” Zelena: “Like I said to your brother years ago, just watch and learn, Pendragon, all right?” (And so, with the fight raging on above them, Zelena and Morgana take turns throwing rocks at the bandits. The sounds of swords clashing echoing throughout the valley.)

[9r7g5h]

Wronged

AN: Sooooo, it’s been forever since I wrong any kind of fanfic, but the discussion I saw between @dadrielle, @tunemyart, and @ravenclaw-burning inspired me to write this in like, 2 hours, where Gabrielle gets to be angry after bringing Xena back to life. I hope it’s ok that I post this and tagged yall. If not, let me know and I��ll pull it down.

Disclaimer: I do not own Xena.

She knew something was wrong with Gabrielle.

Sure, she was newly risen, but the foggy haze of death hadn’t seemed to have dulled her senses now that she had returned. In fact, lying there in the furs – their furs once more – it felt like the world was even clearer to Xena then it had been before.

She could hear the fireflies on the other side of the clearing, the buzz of their wings growing slightly louder right before their luminescence peaked. She could smell the rushing water almost half a mile, the swirling waves sending up the illusion of crisp rain even through the acrid sting of the smoke from their lowering fire. She could almost taste the scent of the beasts that had walked through the clearing before she and Gabrielle had stumbled into it, tired and dazed from their individual experiences, supporting each other with shaking hands as they tried to find somewhere safe to rest.

So she knew something was wrong. Not just from whatever had happened to Gabrielle, back there in that temple; that was a different kind of pain, one that had had Gabrielle hunched over, her arm crossed tight over her stomach as she fought back the bile and the rising pain beckoning her towards involuntary sleep. Xena wasn’t sure what sacrifice Gabrielle had had to make to bring her back, wasn’t sure just how much of her was now missing.

All she knew was that a token of flesh demanded a payment of flesh, something Gabrielle had willingly paid to bring her back. A payment that, even hours later, still brought her pain, evident in the way she shifted to try and get comfortable, the way she had declined all but the smallest bites of the cheese and bread Xena had dug out from the traveling pack, still showing in the way she flinched when Xena tried to touch her stomach, pulling away from the pain.

However, even with this wrongness and pain radiating from Gabrielle as she tried to heal from whatever had been asked of her to bring Xena back, Xena still knew something was wrong.

It had grown slowly over the last few hours. When she had appeared on the temple floor, naked and covered in what she could only assume were the remains of her own ashes, the reunion had been… not what she had expected, for there was no expecting anything in the land of the dead, just ash and dirt and nothing she had been promised growing up. But it had been something, something she knew Gabrielle would write about in her stories, the way the long lost lovers always reunited.

There had been disbelief – from Gabrielle that her sacrifice had worked, from Xena that she was alive once again. There had been careful hands tracing long since familiar lines of almost forgotten faces, locked eyes almost willing the image to disappear from before them, to be a false hope cursed to them by the few remaining gods. There had been the questions of if Gabrielle was dead, the denial, the reassurance that she was alive, that she was back on earth and the closest she had been to home in almost half a decade.

And then there had been the tears, the broken sobbing as Gabrielle had collapsed into her arms, both from the overwhelming feelings that flooded through her and as whatever she had promised this ancient deity was taken from her, the different pains mixing together to make the almost shattered person Gabrielle temporarily became. Tears from Xena as she pulled Gabrielle against her chest, trying to hold her as close as possible, the memories of her agonizing longing for her love twisting in her chest as she realized they were together once more.

A kiss as Gabrielle pulled her down to her level, finishing whatever pact she had made by breathing literal life back into Xena, a kiss that fulfilled its goal and more as they held each other close and remembered that they were, in fact, alive.

But the moment they had pulled apart, even through the joy that shone in Gabrielle’s eyes, through the pained smile she managed to eek out, through the croaking words of welcome that Gabrielle gave her, there was that wrongness.

Even as they supported each other out of that damned temple, Gabrielle leaning on Xena to walk through the pain, Xena leaning on Gabrielle as she worked to get strength back into her long since dead legs, there was a distance between them. A shying away from her touch as Gabrielle moved, almost a flinch when Xena reached out to steady her. When they had reached the clearing, Gabrielle had almost torn herself from Xena’s grasp, letting herself fall into the pile of furs instead of slowly sinking down, like Xena let herself do.

Even now, lying in the bed, pretending to be asleep, Gabrielle kept a distance between them. She didn’t curl into Xena’s side like she had before, hadn’t moved to rest her head on Xena’s shoulder like she had so many times before.

Instead she laid there, her breathing too calm, too even, for her to be asleep.

She was trying to hide from Xena, and something was wrong.

“Are you alright?”

Gabrielle didn’t jump as Xena spoke, almost as if she had been expecting the words to come. But she didn’t react either, not for a long moment. Even from behind, unable to see Gabrielle’s face, she knew her well enough to know she was thinking, and so she let her think.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to die?”

For a moment, she was taken aback. Out of all the questions Xena had been waiting for, that honestly hadn’t crossed her mind as a possibility. She had been expecting questions about the afterlife, questions about the future, questions about how life was going to change and what it would take to adjust back into the life they had had.

She hadn’t expected the simmering anger in Gabrielle’s voice, the dangerous rage simmering right under the surface of her words as she questioned the past.

After a moment, Xena gave a half shrug, a movement she knew Gabrielle couldn’t see, but one she was sure Gabrielle would feel from how the blankets shifted against her back.

“I thought it would be easier. That you wouldn’t struggle so much against what needed to be done if it just happened.”

Once again she was taken by surprise as Gabrielle let out a barking laugh, though no joy was found within the sound. In jerky movements, trying her best to avoid aggravating the pain within her, Gabrielle pushed away the furs and stood, the slip of cloth she had put on after stripping from her bloody and dirty clothes fluttering slightly in the cool wind dancing through the forest.

It was almost angelic, if not for the twisted rage on Gabrielle’s face as she turned to look at Xena, her teeth bared in a grimace Xena had only seen reserved for Gabrielle’s most hated enemies.

It chilled her to be on the other side of that rage.

“So after a lifetime together, I still didn’t have your trust.”

The words were spat with such fury, it almost felt like a slap as Xena scrambled to her knees, her legs still too weak to fully hold herself upright. Instead she tried to meet Gabrielle as best as she could, to talk to her, to try to find the root of Gabrielle’s words the best she could.

“Gabrielle, that’s not-“

Her words fell silent as Gabrielle slapped her hand away, barely blinking as the back of her hand swatted Xena’s, refusing the reassuring hold that Xena had wanted to offer, had wanted to have for her own selfish reasons.

“That’s exactly what happened, Xena,” Gabrielle said, her voice a deadly tone as she spoke. “You decided not to trust me, decided we could never be equals, and left me to die.”

She turned away from the bed, from Xena, and took only a few faltering steps before the pain forced her to stop, half doubling over as she clutched at her stomach.

It wasn’t her words that finally caused Xena to snap, but the pain clearly radiating through her partner, the woman she loved, pain she had never wanted for her, pain she had tried so hard to protect her from, that did her in.

“What was I supposed to do,” Xena snapped, shifting her weight so she was sitting down instead of kneeling, the pressure too much for her newly returned joints. “Leave those souls cursed? Feed them to a demon myself? Or perhaps let them wander in painful agony, unable to move on and find the rest they deserved. Tell me, Gabrielle, what in hell was I supposed to do?”

“Talk to me!”

Neither said anything as they sat there, stilled by their individual and shared pain, waiting for the rustling of frightened birds and previously sleeping creatures to calm after the disturbance of Gabrielle’s cry. Even after it quieted, neither spoke, not for a long moment, until Gabrielle took in a deep breath and moved a bit further away, until she was on the opposite side of the clearing from Xena. She carefully lowered herself down, leaning back against the trunk of the tree, her arm pressed tight across her abdomen as she fought to keep herself from shattering.

“You could have talked to me, Xena.” Her voice was almost hollow, as if she had released all of her anger and rage in that one screamed sentence, though more words still needed to come. “You could have told me your plan. Told me you had to die in order to fight the demon, told me how you planned it. I could have changed things.”

“How?” The word was quick, an almost interruption as she snapped at Gabrielle. She hadn’t made the decision to die lightly, had spent many hours considering all the information she had been able to get, trying to decide the best course of action that would accomplish their goal. She had sent Gabrielle away so she wouldn’t get caught in the explosion, so she wouldn’t die with her. “How would having you there have changed anything, Gabrielle?”

Gabrielle looked at her for a long moment before giving a small, half hearted shrug.

“I could have hidden, let you die, and then used the chakram to drive away the remains of the army. I could have retrieved your body from the battlefield, instead of seeing the woman I loved strung up like a trophy.”

Her voice cracked on that final word, and Xena blanched. She had expected to die, had expected her corpse to be put on some kind of display, but even the eventual fate had been harsh by her standards. It had taken much of her strength to not mourn; not for herself, but for the obvious pain that had radiated through Gabrielle at the sight of her headless body hanging there.

“Gabrielle, I…”

“I could have burned you right then and there,” Gabrielle said, continuing as if she didn’t hear Xena’s words. “I would have had two full days to get to the mountain, two days to find someone who might have known something that we didn’t, Xena. Might have found a way to change things before that sundown, instead of after.”

“After?” The word caught Xena by surprise, her head tilting slightly as she examined Gabrielle. Really, truly looked at her in the fading flames of their fire. The flickering light made it hard, but her senses were strong, and so she could make out the sight before her.

Gabrielle looked tired. There were lines where before her skin had been smooth, her hair was raggedly cut, and she was thin. The thin of hard work, of stress and pain and the inability to rest, not the slightness of strength and travel.

“Akemi told me the only way to save the souls was to stay dead, Gabrielle, so what do you mean by after?”

Another laugh, another hollow sound that didn’t seem like it could come from someone previously so joyous, so happy and loving and full of life. Nothing like the way Xena had seen her last time.

“Akemi lied to you before, Xena. Why did you think you could believe her now? You had to keep the souls safe from the demon so they could move on. Once they had moved on, once you had repaid the debt you owed, you were free. And that debt could have been paid while alive.”

A sense of vertigo, a feeling that she couldn’t breathe, a pounding in her head as she heard the exhausted truth behind Gabrielle’s words, a truth she almost didn’t want to believe.

She had existed under so much guilt, had moved through life with so much pain on her shoulders, she had leapt at the first chance to fix it. Without considering the words Gabrielle let drip from her tongue.

“I talked to people on the way to Egypt, and found so many ways to calm distressed spirits, to send them on their way, to keep them safe from the harm demons could cause. I had to come back. I’ve spent the last five years making amends for your wrongs, Xena, because even if they were at peace they couldn’t move on. They were still stuck. So I set them free. And then found a god that would trade flesh for flesh.”

A fire came back in her voice as she spoke, as Gabrielle pointed out the oh so very obvious piece of information that Xena had missed, that had been hidden from her through Akemi’s cleaver lies. She shifted as she spoke, raising her slip up, showing Xena the newly massive scar that Gabrielle had hidden from her before, the pink and puckered skin almost letting Xena imagine the damage underneath. She knew the placement of organs well, knew where there should be smooth skin and where there should be emptiness, and bile burned in her throat as she examined the scar from across the way.

“Because I love you Xena, even if part of me wishes I had never met you. I can’t hate you forever.”

She still wasn’t strong enough to stand, so instead Xena crawled, crawled on her hands and knees like she hadn’t since her army had put her through the gauntlet, trying to beat her to death with painful blows designed to break everything within her. But even that didn’t compare to the pain of Gabrielle’s words, so Xena crawled until she was before her, looking up to beg at Gabrielle’s feet for forgiveness.

Because this close, she could tell exactly what was wrong, and that wrongness was the fact that Gabrielle hated her.

“I’m sorry.”

There were so many words that Xena wanted to say, so many thoughts and feelings jumbled up inside of her – she should have discussed her plan with Gabrielle, shouldn’t have accepted Akemi’s words so easily when she had proven herself capable of deceit before, should have let Gabrielle pour her ashes into the pool so she could find another way to close over her guilt. Should have, should have, should have –

But she didn’t, and so she stayed on her knees before Gabrielle, looking up at her even though they were almost the same height, the new guilt eating away inside of her almost a pain that she was desperate to fix.

The hardness around Gabrielle’s eyes softened slightly as she looked down at Xena. Bending down, her hand cupping her cheek, Gabrielle pulled her up into a simple, innocent kiss. And even though there was hatred, yes, rage and fury and pain that had come from so much betrayal, there was still love. There was still the love that Xena had defied death for so many times, and the love that had led Gabrielle to giving so much of herself so she could have Xena back.

“Teach me to trust you again,” Gabrielle said as she pulled back, her lips brushing against Xena’s as she spoke, “and maybe I can forgive you.”

A pain in her heart, just as there was pain in Gabrielle’s words, but Xena only nodded, almost desperately, accepting Gabrielle’s terms.

Because there was so much wrongness now, so much broken between them, and if it took the rest of her life, she would try to fix it. Starting with the broken trust that pained them, from the way she had wronged her. 

[ed-edward-blackbeard]

Fanfic Author Meme.  Keep Reading after question 2 for 3-50.

1. What was your first fic and could you stand to reread it today?

Jesus Lord, no.  I’d die of secondhand embarrassment before I got halfway through it.  It was never published online, thank Christ.  It was called … ugh, I don’t remember what I called it, but it was a line from Edmund Spenser.  (Don’t judge.)  It was an OC female character and Autolycus, from Hercules and Xena, played by Bruce Campbell.  It was… a SHAMBLES.  Self-insert, wish-fulfillment of the worst kind.  But, my friend Alicia read it at the time and she told me how great she thought it was, and I should keep at it.  So, thank you, Edmund-Spenser-titled-fic.

2. What’s your most recent fic and how far do you think you’ve come?

It’s called “i commit sins every day but i never give my soul away”, and it’s on my AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/22951009.  And I actually don’t have a unit of measurement for how much I’ve improved.  But it’s also been… God, I’m 43 today,  so it’s been 27 years I’ve been writing.  Almost thirty years.  Shit, I’m old.

3. In your opinion, what’s your best fic?

Oh, man.  Tricky question.  If by best you mean technically written, most enjoyable?  I’d say maybe wasting the dawn.  Definitely By Inches We Fall.  But to be totally honest with you?  I think my best fic, the one that got me, personally by the throat, shook me, and hasn’t let me go?  Shoah.  It’s one of my earlier fics, from the Sentinel fandom, but man.  Writing this was rough.  I did my research on concentration camps, and I couldn’t sleep right for weeks.  Lisa and Patt were holding my hands over AIM practically every night when I was sobbing that I couldn’t finish it, that I couldn’t do it, that it was too much.  (I’d have been about fucking seventeen, maybe nineteen, when I was writing it.)  I bit off way more than I was prepared for, but I didn’t quit.  And I’m proud, quite frankly, that I even finished the damn thing, but even this far removed from it, I still feel that gut-punch when I go back re-read it, which is why I don’t.  And haven’t for a couple of years.  

4. In your opinion and without looking at any numbers, what’s your most popular fic?

It’d probably be Consortio.

5. Is there any fic that makes you super happy to reread and remember you wrote that?

I actually feel that way about 99% of my stuff.  Even some of the older stuff, I re-read it and I get really happy because not only do I see myself changing and maturing, I realize I was harder on myself than I should have been.  I didn’t suck like I thought, and I get the warm fuzzies.

6. Is there any fic that makes you super embarrassed to reread and remember you wrote that?

Er, not really?  I mean, there’s some cringey shit I wrote when I was like, twelve, but not even I know where those notebooks got off to.

7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

By Inches We Fall.  It’s my only Game of Thrones fic, and I feel like I really want to continue the story of Jamie and Brienne and their kids, and of Jaime being Hand to King Jon and Queen Sansa.

8. What’s the oldest (longest since last update) fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

How Firm A Foundation.  It’s a Deadwood fic, and I (many years ago, when Deadwood was actually on the air) actually sketched out how every chapter would go.  There’s a few things I’d change today, if I started it again, just because I can plot better than I could ten years ago, but I think the thread of the story is gone forever.

9. Have you ever written for a fandom without watching/reading/playing the source material?

Yami No Matsuei.  A friend of mine was actually heavily into YnM, and I wrote several stories for her.  Later I’ve watched some of it, and I realize I did okay on my characterizations, but there’s always things I could have done better.

10. Have you ever written for a fandom without reading other fanfic for it?

Pretty much every fandom I have ever been in.  I don’t read a lot of fanfic, because I’m afraid (almost paranoid, in fact) that I’ll internalize something I’ve read and later spout it out in my fic, and I don’t ever want to copy anyone, deliberately or otherwise.

11. Have you ever written a fic for a concept you know someone else has done before? How did it impact your writing process or feelings after posting?

I have, and I didn’t publish it for the reason above; I didn’t feel like my take on it was original enough to bother.

12. Have you ever written a fic and decided never to publish it? Why?

Lots of reasons, actually.  Sometimes I write with the intention of not publishing, it’s something just for me.  I’ve also written a few fics that I ended up absolutely hating, and they’ve never seen the light of day.  I’ve also done some that I felt wasn’t original enough, or they were written about the trope du jour, and I had nothing else to offer that ten other people hadn’t already done.

13. What’s the biggest change between your style when you started in fandom and today?

Sentence style and structure.  I used to do the whole, “He said.”  “In reply, she said.”  “The sky was blue when he rode in.”  And then a few of my better friends (and betas) took me in hand and showed me how to mix it up, chop my comma addiction in half (seriously, I once had a single sentence run on for twelve lines.) and I feel like I get a better grip on characterization.

14. What’s the biggest change in your taste between when you started in fandom and today?

Sex.  I used to write it in everything.  And then the more I wrote, and the older I got, the less I wanted to write it (or read it, or talk about it.)  So I’m a lot more comfortable writing non-sex stories than I used to be.

15. Have you ever purposefully written one fandom/fic idea over another because you knew it’d be more popular?

Of course.  I think everyone has, at one point or another.

16. Have you ever stopped writing a fic/for a fandom because it wasn’t receiving enough attention?

Anything I’ve ever abandoned was lack of my own attention, not anything else.  I’m kinda used to not getting a lot of attention.

17. In your opinion, what’s your most overrated fic?

What He Wants.  It’s pretentious wankfic, for a pairing I don’t actually like all that much (Lucius/Harry), and I just feel like everyone loves it way more than it deserves.

18. What’s your most underrated fic?

I’m gonna pick on Shoah again, because I feel like it just doesn’t get enough love.  I’m biased, because of how emotionally attached I am to the fic, but I feel like it’s ignored.

19. If you had to pick one fic/scene/chapter of your work to describe your entire portfolio to a stranger, which would you pick?

Wasting The Dawn.  It’s a Magicians fic, and it showcases every character from the show, and I think I did a passable job of hitting every voice.  So I’d be proud to show that one around.

20. Have/Would you ever rewrite a fic? If yes, would you take the original down?

Would I rewrite it?  Sure.  Would I take down the original?  Um, that’s a little more difficult.  On the one hand, I’m not really ashamed, as such, of anything that I did.  But having two copies of things would get really complicated and onerous.  I might actually start a second pseud, like maybe kelex-originals or something like that, and move the originals over to that, and leave the rewrites on my main, with a link to the original in the notes.  Yeah, that’s probably what I’d do.

21. If someone starts kudosing and commenting your fics in a spree and has a few works of their own, would you go look through theirs?

HELL YES.  Mostly because I’m always looking for shinies to read in fandoms I don’t write for.  I also kind of like to read their stuff and get a feel for who they are and why they like what I’ve got.  But mostly, I just love it and it makes me giggle watching someone go through my fics and like EEEE THERE YOU ARE AGAIN.

22. Has there ever been anyone who’s made you freak out because they read your work and followed/favorited/reviewed?

Fucking scads of people, actually.

23. What’s the nicest review you’ve ever gotten?

Oh man, I’ve got a fuckton of good ones.  But the one that I always get a kick out of is on one of my Gotham fics, and the comment was along the lines of, the tag mentioned bed-sharing and they thought that was all it was going to be, but it was so much more and they got caught up in it and it was wonderful.  And that’s my favorite (if not the nicest) because I love the fact that I was able to give someone something they enjoyed, even more because it was unexpected!

24. What’s the meanest review you’ve ever gotten? Do you think the reviewer intended it?

It was a review back in the days of OneList, and I was told that my pencils should be broken and my keyboard taken away because I was a terrible writer.  And yes, I know they meant it.

25. What constructive criticism, however well-meaning, always makes you feel bad when you see it in a review?

It’s less a concrit and more a crit.  But it’s always, “why did you do X?  It was out of character!” and that makes me grit my teeth.  Mostly because I feel like I’ve always explained, thoroughly, why I’ve done something (whether in dialog, in the writing itself, or heavily implied in monologues), and that question always makes me want to throttle someone because either they didn’t get it, or I didn’t.  

26. What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?

Humor.  I’m a sarcastic bitch, and when it’s appropriate (and sometimes when it isn’t), I have funny characters or have characters deadpan things.  And it delights the fuck out of me when someone highlights that as one of their favorite parts.

27. If you could only ever write crossovers or single-fandom fics ever again, which would you pick?

Single fandom fics.  I’m not a fan of crossovers, though I’ve written them from time to time, and probably will again if I think it’s appropriate.  I just prefer not to cross the streams, as it were.

28. if you could only ever write for a single crossover or a single fandom again, which would you pick?

Good Omens.  Hands down.  So. Many. AUs.  So many ideas.  So many delightful characters.

29. Does the division of your writing across fandoms line up with your reading? What’s the biggest discrepancy?

It does not.  I read far, far less than I actually write.

30. Do you continue to write for a fandom after you’ve moved on or do you focus solely on the new one?

I usually focus on the new one, however, I’ve occasionally re-visited a fandom after I’ve left it, because inspiration hits me, or I’ve gotten back into it.

31. Who’s the one character you’ve just never managed to get perfectly right?

Margo Hanson, from the Magicians.

32. Who’s the one character who shines without you even trying?

There’s a few.  Eliot Waugh, Lex Luthor, Jack O’Neill, the Doctor (9 & 10 mostly)

33. Is there any particular character whose scenes always wind up being longer/more frequent than you expected? Does the quality hold up?

Not really?  Characters and scenes are as long as they need to be.  I do think the quality holds up, though, because honestly, by the time they’re done, I’m done.

34. Was there any fic that you wrote that really surprised you in the fandom reaction? Was it just by the numbers or did they take it an entirely different way?

Not really, or if there was, I don’t remember it.

35. Have you ever written a ship into a fic without meaning to?

Yup.  It snuck in there, especially in the background early on, and by the end I was like, what the fuck, I don’t even ship you, YOU DON’T EVEN GO HERE.

36. Have you ever sincerely written a ship you do not support into a fic?

Nope.  If I don’t like a ship, I don’t write it.

37. Have you ever purposefully bashed a character/ship in a fic?

No.  Not as a writer.  But like, I have written a character saying “I don’t think X belongs with Y, they belong with me!” because that’s pretty much how the actual relationship went down.  (Spike, Buffy, Riley most specifically.)

38. Have you ever purposefully written something you know your readers would find uncomfortable/would not enjoy? If yes, why?

Very, very, very many years ago.  I wrote it just to see if I could.  I could, I did, and I haven’t written it again.

39. Do you consider yourself to have a readership?

No.

40. Do you feel like you put out enough content?

I feel like I put out what I need to.  Is it enough?  idk.

41. If you cross-post your fics on multiple sites, do you have a favorite? Are there certain fics you would only post on certain site?

AO3 is, hands down, my favorite.  For awhile, I was posting to WWOMB (Wonderful World of Make-Believe) but I’ve stopped there, sadly.

42. How many views has your most popular fic gotten?

Consortio is my most popular fic, and it’s gotten 21,658 hits.  Although the fic is multi-chapter, so I don’t know how to break that down into individual hits. In fact, four of my five most popular are multi-chapters.  The only single-chapter fic is What He Wants, clocking in at 6,743. 

43. Your least popular?

The Rose and the Yew Tree, with 0 hits.

44. Do you follow/favorite/kudos/comment/review more stories than you have received?

Unfortunately, no.

45. If you had to call yourself an author of a single genre (besides fanfic) what label would you give yourself?

Pornography.

46. Do you consider yourself a diverse author?

Diverse as in fandoms?  Yes.  Diverse as in style?  Not so much.

47. If someone you know in real life who isn’t involved in fandoms asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

I’ve done that before, and I’ve tailored it to the person and what I know they like.  For example, my old boss got me hooked on La Femme Nikita (the Peta Wilson one), and so when she wanted to read my writing, I gave her my LFN fics to read.

48. Does anyone you know from outside of fandom know you write fanfic? Are they involved in the same fandom too?

Yes, and some of them.

49. Has anyone in your life ever read your fanfic just because you wrote it?

Yes.

50. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

It has had a very significant impact, and no, it hasn’t been at all positive.  Some of my best moments, as well as my worst, are because of fanfic and fandom, but fanfic in particular.  Fic’s brought me close to people, fic’s pushed me away from people, and it’s made people change the way they look at me.

[faveficarchive]

...But We're Not the Same

By Atara

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: PG-13

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

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

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

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

"Xena, I have something..."

"Gabrielle, I have..."

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

"No, you go ahead."

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

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

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

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

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

"I know," replied Xena gently.

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

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

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

"I know," nodded Xena.

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

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

"I know," replied Gabrielle with a sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, probably."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Guilty, why?" asked Xena, surprised.

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

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

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

"I know," said Xena quietly.

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

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

Gabrielle muttered, "I wish it was."

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

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

"Yes, I do."

"How much?"

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

"Oh, Xena," sighed Gabrielle.

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

Tears began to trickle from Gabrielle's eyes again.

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

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

Xena suddenly grinned. "A good thing too."

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End

[shannaraisles]

In Marcher Fields - Chapter 18

Poppy Hawke was never the daughter her mother wanted, the sister her twin preferred, the hero Kirkwall desired. They do not see the woman who stands between them and the chaos that threatens. No one takes the time to look, until she crosses the path of a certain Knight-Captain with demons of his own to battle …

[Read on AO3]

9:41 Dragon, Firstfall

"You're doing it again."

Poppy blinked, dragging her gaze from the table across the hall to stare at her brother, mildly uncomprehending. Alex was smirking at her over a forkful of Antivan cherry pie.

"Doing what?" she asked innocently.

"Come to bed eyes at your dreamy commander," he teased, and yelped as her foot made contact sharply with his ankle. He laughed, reaching down to rub it. "All right, all right. Just try not to lay him out on a table in public, would you? I love you, but not that much."

Poppy smirked back at him, ignoring the snickering rising from Varric on her other side to let her gaze return whence it had come. Cullen was apparently deep in discussion with the Inquisitor on the far table, his own dessert hardly touched. Xena was animatedly talking about something that was clearly important to her, and the sheer force of his attention was endearing to see. It was good to know that he had learned to make friends of his colleagues in these past years, that he wasn't as alone as he could so easily have been. As she watched, his eyes flickered toward her, meeting her gaze with a warmth that blossomed deep inside, in her heart and in her belly, casting her face into a gentle glow of a smile that made her brother snort with laughter again.

"Oh, shut up," she managed, rolling her eyes away from Cullen as warmth grew in her cheeks. "This is all your doing, you can't complain about it."

"Am I complaining?" Alex defended himself. "I thought I'd earned the right to be smug."

"Not until it's a done deal," Varric interjected across Poppy. "Half an hour of grabby kisses does not mean they're back for good."

"Gosh, aren't you the little ray of sunshine?" Poppy drawled to her friend, unable to keep her smile in check as he guffawed with laughter. "Easy there, short-arse. You're already halfway to the done deal with Xena, you know."

Varric's laughter abruptly stopped, and Poppy had the privilege of seeing her friend look totally disconcerted. He glanced across at the Inquisitor's table himself, his own gaze lingering as Xena let out a raucous laugh of her own. She knew that look - she'd seen it in Cullen's eyes too many times not to know it - but Varric seemed hell-bent on not admitting his heart was already lost.

"Not gonna happen, Hawke," he told her quietly, dragging his eyes away.

"Bianca?" she murmured, concerned when he blanched and nodded. "One of these days, you're going to have to tell me this story."

"When it's over, maybe." He sighed, shaking his head. "But enough about me. Can I write your epic love story now?"

Poppy let out a burst of cackling laughter, quick to quiet herself when noble heads turned toward her, burning with curiosity.

"When the adventurous part is over, maybe," she allowed, knowing it had to be killing Varric to be sitting on romance he wouldn't have to make up to get it written down. "I'll tell you when that is."

"I'm going to be an old man before you say yes to that, aren't I?"

"It's a distinct possibility, yes."

Varric sighed exaggeratedly, throwing a grin her way as he poured more ale into his tankard. With a quiet giggle to herself, Poppy made a valiant attempt to finish her pie, but her eyes rose yet again to the opposite table.

To Cullen, gazing back at her with a fiendishly secretive smile glimmering in his gaze, raising one eyebrow at the turn of her blush. All she could do was smile in return, her mind's eye lingering on the kisses they had shared not so very long again, on the newfound certainty that he still loved her. Work and duty had got in the way of a proper reunion ... but now the night had come, and the meal was over. Varric had said Cullen worked long into the night, every night, but she didn't think that would be the case tonight. She hoped it wouldn't be. There was still so much that hadn't been said, so much they needed to renew together. One night would not be enough. A lifetime ... well, that might be time enough.

"Just go to bed, would you?" she heard Alex sigh exaggeratedly. "This is getting nauseating."

She kicked him again for good measure, laughing as he whimpered just for her benefit, and finally rose from her seat, locking eyes with Cullen once more. He nodded to her, slowly rising from his own seat as she turned away to head for the door into the walled garden, ignoring the hopeful attempts by various nobles to get her attention as she passed them by. She had no time for them anymore, and certainly not tonight.

The sound of the gathering in the hall faded as the door swung shut behind her. Poppy breathed in the fragrant air of the little garden, smiling faintly as she recognized the scents of elfroot, embrium, Crystal Grace, even the dank tang of deep mushroom. Xena's little herb garden was coming along very well, it seemed. She stepped across the cloister, resting her temple against the cool stone of the uprights, one arm wrapped about the narrow column. Nerves flickered in her belly - would she be all he remembered? Was she good enough? Would he even bother to follow her out here?

The noise from the hall swelled for a moment at her back - she started to turn - and Cullen was there, arms reaching for her, mouth hungry for more of the kisses they had been denied for far too long. She couldn't help giggling into the first of those kisses, feeling his lips curve in an answering smile lost in the heady rush of knowing that this was what she had been missing all these years. The safety, the warmth, the love that Cullen could envelop her in with just a kiss filled a hole in her heart she had been nursing since the last time he had been able to touch her.

Bare hands skimmed her sides, kneading, holding, one smoothing down over her hip to pull her ever closer, the other diving into the fall of her hair, cradling her head in his palm as her hands passed restlessly up and down his back. No armor tonight, for either of them - simple jerkin and shirt for the Commander of the Inquisition, never before seen without his plate and mantle by the eager nobles until this night. But he wasn't the Commander of the Inquisition, not here, not now. He was Cullen, her Cullen, and the woman in his arms wasn't Lady Hawke, wasn't the Champion, wasn't even the consultant helping the Inquisition with the Warden problem - she was Poppy. For the first time in a very long time, she was simply Poppy.

Stone pressed against her back as he surged forward, pinning her there quite literally between rock and a hard place, filling her mouth with his soft groan at the gentle rake of her nails through his hair. She was vaguely aware of the rise in sound behind him, and an embarrassed female voice stuttering out an apology for interrupting as he drew back from her in frustration. She caught a glimpse of Chantry robes disappearing back into the Great Hall, unable to keep herself from snorting with laughter at being interrupted again.

Cullen's frown smoothed away as he looked at her, slowly relaxing into a smile of his own as they leaned into each other in the moonslight.

"I think it's time we found a little privacy, don't you?" she murmured, tracing a fingertip along the stubbled line of his jaw.

"Maker, yes," was his fervent reply, drawing another laugh from her as she pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

She pushed him back, claimed his hand in her own, guiding him quickly away from that access way toward a door set into the outer wall of the castle. Skyhold was enormous, there was no doubting that - plenty of space for visitors and inhabitants alike - but she had been given a room beneath the Inquisitor's rooms in the tower, with a wide window that overlooked the bailey of the keep. It was a great honor, of course, to be quartered all but with the Inquisitor, but right now, Poppy was more frustrated with the sheer number of stairs required to reach the appropriate level. It was very difficult to force herself to keep going with Cullen walking close to her back, the hand she hadn't claimed brushing hungrily over her side and hip as though he couldn't bear to stop touching.

In the darkness of the hallway, she fumbled with the door handle, loosing a breathless whimper as his lips found her throat, seeking out the sensitive dip behind her jaw that he knew would turn her to water in his grasp. The door came open, and she stumbled forward, released from his arms to turn back and watch as he closed and locked the door, turning to her with predatory tenderness in his gaze. And she didn't care. For the first time in a long time, she was glad to be the prey, glad to be caught and kissed and touched, reminded all over again that this was where she should be, this was where she should have stayed. She loved him.

It could have been hours later, it could have been moments, but the moons soon shone through the window on rumpled sheets and bare skin, on limbs tangled together without any wish to separate. Poppy lay on her side, facing Cullen, her fingertip teasing gently up and down a new scar on his chest; his fingers pushing through her hair to trail down her back as he brushed kiss after soft kiss to her lips.

"You look good," she murmured to him in the darkness. "Not so haggard. Not so driven. Apart from this -"

Her hand rose, gently touching the pad of her thumb to the groove between his brows, proof that a frown lived there more often than not. He, predictably enough, frowned at the touch, eyes tilting upward for a brief moment before returning to her own.

"I have headaches," he admitted quietly.

"I thought you had good supply lines here," Poppy queried in a soft voice. "Surely you're not low on lyrium?"

Cullen grimaced, a flicker of that old awkwardness touching his expression as he sighed. His hand covered her, drawing her palm to his mouth to press a hot kiss there.

"No, Poppy, I ... we have good supplies," he promised her. "I simply ... I haven't taken lyrium for over a year now, not since I left Kirkwall."

Horror flashed through her for a long moment - memories of Samson's hungry addiction, of Cullen's own descriptions of the templars in the infirmary at the Gallows when their reliance on lyrium had become too much. But no ... he wasn't raving. He wasn't haggard or grasping for something he couldn't have. He had made the decision himself. And she couldn't deny that it had done him so much good already. His flesh was warmer, pinker; his eyes, brighter; his mind just as sharp as it had been. He had not lost anything through this decision of his. Perhaps he could teach others to do the same, and finally break the Chantry's leash entirely.

"I wish I had been there to help you," she whispered tenderly, drawing her fingers along his cheek as his hand returned to her back, encircling her in his embrace once again. "I'm so proud of the man you've become, Cullen."

He shook his head, a deprecating smile touching his lips - lopsided, thanks to the scar Alex had branded him with years ago.

"You made me the man I am, Poppy," he murmured back to her. "Even without you there to hold me to account, I have spent years wondering what you would do. I have tried to live my life the way you would want me to. I turned a blind eye to too much in Kirkwall; I allowed too many abuses, too much misery, to fester and bloom under my hand, just because I refused to let go of my own anger. I'm still angry, Poppy. But I won't let it blind me again."

She smiled sadly, knowing he had been through too much to ever let some of it go, shifting closer to touch her lips to his brow as his hands tightened on her once more, gathering his cheek to her breast, lowering her head, curling to wrap him close and stroke his hair, letting him listen to the beat of her heart as he had done so many times before.

"I will never leave you again," she whispered into the darkness. "Let the world find another Champion. I've found where I belong."

[neotericbitch]

armour off

it’s not supposed to be, like, a twist or anything, more like a “well yeah obviously”.

She keeps looking into all the mirrors, making sure no one is following. She’s speeding, but it’s not the cops she’s worried about. Xena isn’t worried at all, she’s having a great time sticking her head out the window. Such a gorgeous dog, with such a beautiful nature. She’s lucky to have had a companion like her. Undeserving, too.

The drive has always felt long, but today it’s the longest it’s ever been. Oddly enough, she’s breathing fine. Her head is clear. Her blood isn’t pumping too hard, her heart isn’t beating too fast. To remain calm is ideal, but she thinks that maybe this is too calm. She thinks that maybe she’d secretly been desperate for something like this to happen. Well - not exactly like this. But something similar enough that would need for her to make a quick and efficient escape.

Her father answers the door, and his eyes light up immediately - but before he can cry out in greeting, Alice, standing at the end of the front hall, beats him to it.

“My warrior princess!”

Valkyrie hears the patter of her sister’s footfalls and for a moment, just for a moment, her composure threatens to break. Alice buries her face right into Xena’s fur, and likewise the dog is wildly excited to see her little friend. Desmond takes the opportunity to pull Valkyrie into a one-armed hug. Outwardly, it’s a casual welcome, but Valkyrie can feel it. Her dad doesn’t want to let go.

She hugs him back, and doesn’t want to let go either. But time is of the essence.

Alice has seen her now, and she shyly bats her eyes at Valkyrie. She knows her sister, but all the same there’s times where visits are few and far between, and the girl ducks her chin and steps behind her father’s legs.

“Alice,” says Desmond. “Look who it is!”

“Good morning, Stephanie,” mumbles Alice. “How are you.”

“Dad,” Valkyrie says, keeping her voice as steady as she can. “I’m sorry, I hate to do this - I’m not here to visit. Something came up really suddenly, I have to - I’m leaving the country. It’s okay - don’t worry, it’s for a job - everything’s fine, I’ll be safe…”

“You need somewhere for Xena to stay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m--”

“Steph,” says Desmond, and hugs her again. “Don’t be sorry. Anything you need. We’ll look after her.” He withdraws and looks down at his youngest, who is back to being licked head to toe by the dog. “We’ll look after Xena, won’t we, Alice? We’ll do some puppysitting? You, me and mum?”

“I can puppysit,” chirps Alice.

“I wish I could…” Valkyrie starts again. “Where is mum?”

“Out. She’ll be so upset she missed you, but...she’ll understand. You’re our busy girl out saving the world. I’ll send your love.”

“Thank you.” She hesitates, and hugs him a third time, and this is the one that makes her eyes water.

“Have fun with your...stuff.” Desmond waggles his fingers. “Magic business. Best of luck. Bring back souvenirs. How’s Skulduggery?”

“Good. Grand. I’m sorry. I have to go. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

Desmond tries to get Alice to say a proper goodbye to Valkyrie, but she’s much too interested in Xena. Xena, meanwhile, whimpers and wags her tail in farewell to her mistress. When Valkyrie turns around, she doesn’t let herself look back.

Valkyrie heard cheers and screams, but nothing else. She knew, though, that it didn’t mean anything good. If the anti-Sanctuary troops out there made any noise at all, it never meant anything of the sort.

She’d managed to rest her eyes somewhat, but a throbbing headache prevented her from sleeping. The aches had fully settled in after a half hour of lying down, the kind that made her limbs occasionally convulse. She had to keep her legs straight, but that was tough when they couldn’t fit on the bed from her calves down. She felt heavy and grimy - though the shirt was still good.

The last light of the day has drained out of the room when Valkyrie gets up. There’s a wall-mounted lantern with a tiny flickering flame, one she doubts is going to go out anytime soon, and it’s just enough for her to see, but the shadows draw long lines across the floor in a way that unsettles her. She misses being an Elemental, being able to light her way with ease. All she can manage now are a few pathetic sparks when she rubs her hands together.

The utensils for cleaning herself had been hidden behind the washing machine. Valkyrie unplugs a hose from the wall for a moment to fill the medium bucket with water, plugs it back in and throws her trousers in the machine. Takes the shirt back off. Rinses her hair, combing her fingers through. Scrubs the soap and sponge over every bloodied part on her body - which is every part.

Valkyrie can’t help but smirk when she throws the dirty water out through the window and hears some anti-Sanctuary nut yelp. She refills the bucket and works on details now. Dirt and blood under her nails, taking off the smaller bandages and dabbing at her wounds.

She would much prefer a long soak in a hot bath, but these aren’t the worst washing conditions she’s had to deal with in the past ten months. Washing herself under that bridge in rural, rural France - that experience holds the title. At least she’s behind a locked door.

A new shadow draws across the floor and over her skin, and back come the goosebumps. From behind her, Skulduggery makes a sound she doesn't think she's ever heard from him before. A weird hitch in breath that doesn't exist.

“Hi,” says Valkyrie without turning around. She deliberately snaps the shoulder strap on her bra as a signal that it's alright to stay, she's as decent as she can get while locked away all fairy tale-like. It doesn't matter what state he sees her in, anyway. He's dead.

“My offer still stands,” says Skulduggery.

“What offer?”

“To run away. Vanish into the night, never to be seen again.”

“I think,” Valkyrie begins, then pauses. She squeezes what's left of the water in her hair back into the bucket, then goes over to the window and throws the water out. Another yelp, but this time she is too busy considering her words to smile. “I think I'm done running.”

“Oh?”

“I think it's only right that we end this once and for all. Only then can I travel in good conscience. I want to see my family again.”

Skulduggery is quiet a moment. He sounds almost disappointed when he turns his helmet to the bottom right corner of the floor and says, “Fair enough.”

The washing machine is finished with her pants, but Valkyrie has barely moved before Skulduggery is over there, getting them out, being a personal blow drier. He throws them at her. Valkyrie senses urgency. She shuffles them on and sits down on the bed with the first aid kit, ready to redress any wounds that need to be covered. Some have become less urgent in these passing hours.

Skulduggery wraps one of her arms while she unwraps a bandaid with her teeth. They quietly work away until all has been taken care of, and then he pushes the shirt upon her. The two of them sit in silence a moment, two incredibly tall people folded uncomfortably over a tiny bed.

“Alright,” says Valkyrie, adjusting herself into a cross-legged position. “Armour off.”

Skulduggery looks away.

“Please, Skulduggery. It's me, for God’s sake.”

“Did I tell you how much I missed you?”

“You may have mentioned it.”

“And did I tell you how much I love you?”

“I try to think of it as a given.”

His chuckle is soft and Valkyrie feels a massive array of things. Safe, oddly enough, is one of them. Skulduggery undoes the clasps on his helmet, very quickly and clinically, and takes it off. He holds the helmet for a second, then it melts into his gauntlets and it's like he never had one at all.

Valkyrie doesn't know what she expected. She doesn't know how he expected her to react. Abyssinia sure did do something. Valkyrie reaches out and touches his cheek, and despite the cold of the armour, he's warm.

“Hm,” she says.

“Hm?” Awaiting approval.

“That's skin, alright.”

Skulduggery bursts out laughing, and at last Valkyrie knows whether he's the type to get teary-eyed from laughing too hard or not. Façades could never cover that ground. She brushes a tear from his eye with her thumb, then withdraws her hand, clasping it in her other.

“So, what - do you eat now?”

He wipes the remainder of the wetness from his eyes and just smiles down at his lap before flickering his gaze up at her. “I do.”

“Oh wow. The great Skulduggery Pleasant now has to piss like the rest of us. This is fantastic news.”

That gets him going again, and it now fully occurs to Valkyrie that, in the time she was gone, the time he spent pretending to be Vile to avoid whatever fate would await otherwise, he probably hasn't laughed at all. He meant it. He had been waiting for her. He had missed her.

“I love you,” says Valkyrie.

He's got those eyes that are really good at blinking at people. She can already see it, blinking slowly and incredulously at someone he thinks is an idiot, the blink that somehow doesn't break the illusion of a long, angry stare. And here and now, an unassuming, innocent kind of blink. She'd be fooled if she didn't know him.

“If you're expecting me to say it back,” says Skulduggery, “you're in for disappointment. I said it there earlier, didn’t you hear? I don't need to say it again. It would be uneven.”

“I love you!” repeats Valkyrie, louder than expected. Her voice and hands are shaky, and she fears for a moment that someone will have heard before recalling that they're far away from prying ears. It could be sweat running down her neck, but it could also be leftover water from her bucket bath. The butterflies in her stomach can't be explained away by any of her wounds, though.

She could give it a go anyway.

“Oh dear,” Skulduggery murmurs. “It seems I no longer have a choice in the matter. Well, I suppose I must respond in kind…”

He trails off and goes quiet, starts working his gauntlets off. Valkyrie doesn't wonder why for long - it's so she doesn't freeze when he puts his hands on her shoulders. They're gloved like normal, but she can see a flash of skin where she would have once seen bone. He looks right into her eyes.

“I love you, too,” says Skulduggery.

Valkyrie starts laughing nervously. She can't help it. Nothing about this is particularly funny at the moment, and she doesn't feel like laughing, but this is not something she has any control over. She reaches up to her left shoulder and takes his hand off, holds it in both her hands in her lap instead. Holding on maybe too tight. He squeezes her hand back.

“When?” Valkyrie asks quietly.

“It took a month to locate the kind of magic she said could match me.”

She doesn't want to know, but the next question is already tumbling out of her mouth, “How many?”

He looks at their hands. “Six.”

Abyssinia needed two and an injury.

“I don’t suppose I need to explain why she did it. For control, you understand. A knife in the ribcage used to be a dismissible, albeit painful, experience. If you were to stab me through the heart now, I would most certainly die.”

“Hey,” mutters Valkyrie, rapping her knuckles against his breastplate, “at least you got this.”

“Yes, well. It may not do me much good if you keep insisting I take it off.”

Her grip had loosened without her being aware of it, but Skulduggery is still determinedly holding her hand. Valkyrie is warm.

“So what now?” she asks. Then, to clarify, “How do we save the world?”

“I think we can spare some time to work on a brilliant plan.”

“The sooner we get things back to normal, the better.”

Skulduggery slowly releases her hand and sets his down on his knee. He looks at her, then to the corner, then the ceiling, then back at her. “I doubt we can restore everything, but yes. You're right.”

Valkyrie bites her lip and isn't sure how to phrase her next question. “I don’t suppose there would be a sure fire way to get you back to...being…”

“Sure,” he says. “Fire.” And he grins at her for a second before dropping it. “That was terrible, I apologise. No. To kill me again would be the last time. This is it now.”

“You're not happy about that.”

“Of course I'm not. I hate it. I'm repulsive. But I've had time to mellow. Ah, you should have seen me in winter. I was…” He flexes both hands, a humourless smile playing on his mouth. “Furious.”

Valkyrie can only imagine. “You're not repulsive.”

Skulduggery smiles rather genuinely at her by way of responding, and she can no longer think of anything to say. So they just sit there in complete silence, gazes drifting away from one another and finding their way back. It's just that - Valkyrie thinks she needs to stare in order to fully get acquainted with the idea. That's perfectly fine, perfectly acceptable. But now that Skulduggery can't hide it anymore, now that she knows he does it, she can't think of an excuse to explain why he just keeps looking back at her.

“Skulduggery…”

“Valkyrie.”

“You sleep now, don’t you?”

“Not very well.”

She feels stupid and childish, but all the same - “Will you stay with me? At least until you need to go?”

He blinks at her. And blinks at her again. “Of course. Of course I will.”

His hair comes back long and his face comes back scruffy. He had gotten that way during his three days at the end of Serpine’s right hand, and for some god awful reason it had apparently been worth saving. The Necromancers let him up after a month of being tied to a slab to get him to walk again. He runs instead. After getting him into some bound chains, they get him shaved and his hair cut. Abyssinia speaks to him, holding his chin in her palm, taking the rare opportunity to be the tall one while he's on his knees. His saliva isn't fully running yet, but he tries to spit anyway. She just laughs.

She keeps him underground for another month before tossing in the armour. She puts it in very plain terms what she can and will do the moment she even thinks he's going to step out of line. If he behaves, she tells him, it can be like the old days, if he wants. He doesn't say a word, not one. Doesn't speak to anyone at all.

Gant waits every day, very eagerly, for news of suicide, and every day he is disappointed when he spots the dark figure roaming the fortress. The figure holds itself in a way that suggests the smallest thing could set it off. Two months and three days into Abyssinia’s occupation, Gant gathers the latest details on the chase. He finds Vile standing in the darkness between the fortress buttresses, silently observing the troops below.

“You must be so out of the loop, skeleton.” For reasons he cannot explain, Gant gets a lot of enjoyment out of referring to him as something he no longer is. He supposes it’s just amusing to remind him of something special he lost. And it’s already time to do it again. “So many things to be filled in on. Did Abyssinia tell you about the little groups she’s got out there in the world, combing through all the rundown hotels and back alleyways?”

Vile is still. He might not even be listening.

“No, I didn’t think she had.”

Gant looks down at the troops. They’re not all Neoterics, but he finds it easier to refer to them as such anyway. Quite a few of them are hundreds of years old, and have been lying in wait for something like this, whether they be affiliated with the anti-Sanctuary, Erskine Ravel’s fanatics, or on their own until now. Gant is glad he’s not one of them, that he gets to be up here with Abyssinia.

“She’s alive.”

This is no longer the “she” being referred to a sentence prior, but that doesn’t need clarification. It’s evident that Vile knows who is being referred to when he closes his hand around Gant’s throat and shoves him violently up against the wall. Gant wheezes and kicks his legs, hands coming up to uselessly bat at Vile’s arm.

“Where,” says Vile.

“I don’t - know,” Gant chokes and coughs. “That’s - what the - trackers - are for.”

“Where.”

Tears spring to his eyes, but he still does his best to stare into that void of a visor. “Last sighting was - gah - New Zealand. Five hours ago.”

Vile releases Gant’s throat and lets him drop, stands there a moment considering what to leave him with, something painful and inconvenient but won’t risk his own position. Abyssinia can handle broken legs easily. With Gant howling in pain, Vile tears up the buttresses, allowing large chunks of wall to fall and endanger the troops below, and then he’s gone.

He’d blacked out when Abyssinia ambushed, in a very literal manner, as she activated his Necromancy and smothered him with it. When he was back in a state where he was aware of what was happening around him, he was a bare skeleton on a slab. There was not one mention of Valkyrie’s name. If he brought her up, and he constantly did, he was ignored.

Now that he knows she’s alive and out there, running and fighting for her life, he very much feels like an unused furnace being lit up again. He hopes they never catch her. He hopes she never has to see him again.

Skulduggery couldn’t sleep before, but now he can - and when he does he dreams of her and calls her name, and always wakes in tears.

[faveficarchive]

Creative License

By Ella Quince

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: PG-13

Synopsis: A very different take on the Warlord AU.

"Bring in the prisoner," growled the warlord.

Then, while waiting for her orders to be carried out, she paced impatiently in the tight confines of her field tent, stopping only when she heard the approaching sounds of muffled cursing and scuffling boots. By the time the guards had dragged a very noisy young woman into the tent and thrown her to the ground, the warlord had schooled her angular face into an impassive mask. Her body, however, was rigid with tension, adding an aura of menace to her already considerable height. Even her mane of hair, brushed into an ebony wave down her back, seemed to bristle with fury.

After a single glance upward, the prisoner's protests strangled into silence.

With slow deliberation, the warlord took note of the young woman's appearance: plump figure, worn skirt and faded blouse, a homely face framed by long, mousy blonde hair. She looked tired, and a little dusty, but otherwise hadn't suffered any harm at the hands of her captors.

The warlord dismissed the guards with a brusque gesture, her gaze still locked on her newly-won prize. Reaching down, she easily pulled the prisoner up onto her feet. Her calloused hand lingered on the young woman's wrist, then finally dropped away.

"So..." drawled the warlord, taking a polite step back from her captive, "you're Gabrielle, the bard from Potidea."

"Y-yes, that's me," said Gabrielle with a proud lift of her head. Unfortunately, her attempt at bravado was compromised by the slight trembling of her chin.

"I'm Xena... Warrior Princess. I think you've heard of me." The warlord's smile didn't reach the ice-blue of her eyes.

The prisoner nodded reluctantly, then flushed a deep, deep pink. "I...I...can explain."

"I don't want an explanation — I want you to stop."

"Stop? I can't stop! I'm a bard and those stories — "

"Those stories are making it very hard for me to do my job," said Xena, her mouth set in a grim line. "In fact, you're the worst threat I've ever faced."

"Me?" squeaked Gabrielle. She cleared her throat and continued at a more normal pitch. "But I'm... I'm just a wandering bard... you're a mighty—"

"Stop that!" roared Xena. "That's exactly what I'm talking about!" With a weary groan, she dropped down onto her camp bed. "All that 'mighty warrior' stuff — people are starting to take it seriously, for Hera's sake. At least once a month I get a challenge to my 'reputation.' Sometimes, if I'm lucky, that reputation works to my advantage — I've practiced that steely-eyed gaze you describe and it's scared a few combatants away before they even drew their blades."

"Really?" said Gabrielle, breaking into a delighted grin. Animation transformed her plain features into something approaching beauty. "That's great! I've always loved that look of—"

"BUT," cut in the warlord, "most of the time I have to fight them off."

"But you win!"

"Oh, yeah," said Xena with a harsh laugh. "There's nothing like having a few archers in the trees to keep the odds in my favor."

Gabrielle sank down onto a low bench across from the warlord. "You had them... shot?"

"Yes, little bard, I did. In the back, usually, so they wouldn't see the bolt coming."

"But how could you? That's not a fair fight!"

"If it was a fair fight," spat out Xena, "I'd be dead by now, because — your stories to the contrary — I'm not the best warrior in Greece. I'm not the best warrior in this gods-forsaken province. By Hades, I'm not even the best warrior among my own men."

A puzzled look crossed the young woman's face. "Then why do they follow you?"

Xena shrugged. "I'm a good administrator." She colored slightly at Gabrielle's incredulous look. "I can read — which most of them can't — and I'm very organized. I insist on a clean camp, with a decent cook, and I pay them on time. What most warlords don't understand about their armies is that soldiers get tired of life on the road, and little details, like having a comfortable place to take a crap, can forge more loyalty than epic conquests."

"Quality of life issues..." muttered Gabrielle pensively, then shook her head. "Nope, nope, I can't work with that. There's no drama in being a good administrator."

"Speaking of drama," said Xena in a peevish tone. "Every year you make my past bloodier and bloodier. That story about me impaling all those Amazons..." She shuddered. "Gave me the creeps. It's a damn good thing there aren't any Amazons near here or they'd have tracked me down and killed me for that massacre. And Hope and that Dahok demon gave me nightmares for weeks."

"Sorry about that," said Gabrielle contritely. "It's just that audiences expect so much from me now, and it was getting a little boring telling the same old tale about us traveling around Greece saving villagers from petty warlords."

"Is that why you had me drag you behind my horse?" demanded Xena. "Because you thought it was exciting? If I'd really done something like that — and you'd lived, which is highly unlikely — you should have run away from me! Fast! Instead you're still hanging around, business as usual." She shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense at all, dramatic or otherwise."

"I was getting to it!" said Gabrielle hotly. "I drafted this really wrenching reconciliation story, where we worked out all our problems..."

"And?"

"Well, it was too touchy-feely for the tavern crowds, so I shelved it for the next festival, and then never got back to it because I was working on another travel arc."

"To India?" asked Xena.

"Hey, you really do keep up! That's my newest material."

"I've never been to India," said Xena, a trifle wistfully. "Or Chin..."

She drew herself up, assuming a commanding air that was completely at odds with her next words. "In fact, I haven't done any of the things you claim I've done. So, bard, I can't help but wonder — why me?"

Gabrielle remained silent, her expression suddenly blank and unreadable. She really was plain looking, thought Xena, when she wasn't smiling. "Hey, come on, Gabrielle. You owe me."

"All right, all right." The young woman's voice was low, but melodious, as she explained. "A few years ago you rode into Potidea to barter for supplies for your men and...." she took a deep breath, "and you were the most amazing woman I'd ever seen. I wanted to follow you and learn to be a warrior just like you." Her face took on a pinched look. "Only I was too scared. I stayed in Potidea, dreaming, always just dreaming, about the life I could've had if I'd been brave enough to try. After awhile I began to tell other people my fantasies about that life — and they loved them. Sooo... I just kept elaborating on Xena and Gabrielle's adventures together. Travelers assumed I was a bard, talking about my real experiences with the Warrior Princess, and the tips got better and better. The next thing I knew, I could afford to leave Potidea and make a decent living traveling from town to town... and I owe it all you," she finished in a whisper.

"That's...uh...." Xena cleared her throat, "that's very flattering... but I'm not like your warrior princess. I'm not the least bit... dramatic."

Gabrielle smiled, and Xena observed once again that surprising transformation of the bard's features from plain to beautiful. "Actually, I'm not that disappointed. The Xena I've created for my stories would probably be a little too intimidating, unless I was as fearless as the Gabrielle of my stories... which I'm not. In fact, you're a much nicer warlord than I expected."

"That's probably because I'm not a very successful warlord," sighed Xena. "I get by, but not much more than that. And now, because of all those tales of yours, towns are starting to expect my army to help them with problems rather than conquer them."

"Oh, but that's wonderful!"

"Mostly they need a hand with road construction or plumbing; sometimes we save a harvest from the ravages of an early frost."

Gabrielle looked a little crestfallen. "Those quality of life issues again. What is it with people? Everyone insists on being so... mundane. That's why I take a little creative license with my plotlines."

The warlord scowled darkly. "Like implying I've bedded half the warriors in Greece? As if. Just for the record, the ones who aren't sleeping with other men would rather bed a tavern wench who wears homespun linen instead of leather. All this," she waved a hand at her leather and armor, "is equipment. If soldiers thought it was sexy they'd be too distracted to survive their first battle."

"Interesting point. That never occurred to me. I just figured, since you're so beautiful—"

"Which reminds me," said Xena gruffly. "That's another one of those rumors that's making my life difficult. Everyone thinks we're a couple, so they get indignant if I'm too friendly with the locals."

"I didn't start that rumor," said Gabrielle hastily. "It was other bards who just sort of... assumed... and then they took my material and added these... twists to the narrative." She blushed and muttered, "Very inventive really... if you go in for that sort of thing." She peered up from beneath her bangs with a shy look of curiosity. "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Go in for...that kind of thing?"

The warlord swallowed hard, then said, "I move around a lot. Makes it kind of difficult to keep a relationship going."

"You haven't answered my question."

"In case you've forgotten," snapped Xena, "I'm the warlord and this is my interrogation. So stop changing the subject — which is you and your infernal stories!"

The bard cringed, her shoulders hunching as if to deflect a blow, but she relaxed a little when she realized that Xena's fuming wasn't going to erupt into violence. "Funny, I never expected you to take much notice of me... or my stories... but if you did, I always hoped that you'd be... pleased." Her voice seemed to choke up for a moment. "Anyway, I'm really sorry I've caused you so much trouble, and I promise to stop now."

Oddly enough, Gabrielle's concession didn't appear to please the warlord.

"But how will you make money?"

"I'll work with some of my other characters, maybe Meg and Joxer."

"You'll starve," predicted Xena dourly.

"Okay, so they're not too popular, but I'll get by. After all, I can't continue with my Xena chronicles now that I know they're hurting you."

"Oh, it's not so bad as all that," said Xena uncomfortably. "Besides, even if you stop, all the other bards will keep on going. The damage has already been done, so I've given up expecting my life to return to normal."

"Then why did you have me abducted?"

Xena shrugged, her glance sliding away to study a shadowed corner of the tent. "Curiosity, I guess. Since we spent so much time together in your stories, I started to wonder what you were really like."

"Oh.... Well, as you can see for yourself, I took a little creative license with Gabrielle, too. I'm not brave and resourceful... or beautiful."

The warlord's gaze stole back to the young woman's face. "I'm not disappointed," said Xena softly. "You have the nicest smile I've ever seen.... and it takes courage to stand up to a warlord, even a battered old has-been like me."

"Is that how you see yourself?" asked Gabrielle, her brows drawing together in consternation. "Because as far as I'm concerned, you're still the most amazing woman I've ever met."

"You need to get around more," said Xena dryly.

The bard just smirked. "I get around plenty, thank you very much... enough to know what I want."

When Gabrielle leaned forward, an emotion resembling panic appeared in the warlord's eyes, but she held her ground. When their lips touched, Xena closed her eyes entirely. And when the kiss deepened, a low moan signaled her surrender to the bard.

"Ouch!" muttered Gabrielle, suddenly breaking away from their embrace. "That armor stuff is sharp."

"Sorry." Xena appeared quite flustered, although whether from the kiss or its abrupt interruption was unclear. "It's been a while since I've done this."

"We'd be more comfortable if you took off the metal parts," said Gabrielle firmly.

"Yes, yes, I suppose we would." But the warlord didn't move. In fact, she barely seemed able to breathe.

"Here," said the bard, her fingers gently tugging at a buckle. "Let me help."

With a mute nod, the warlord allowed herself to be disarmed. The bard fumbled a bit with the unfamiliar fastenings, but both of them were too distracted to notice. And by the time Gabrielle had slipped off Xena's breastplate, arm guards and bracers, they'd built up enough momentum to keep right on going.

"The warrior princess is a little better endowed than I am," confessed Xena, aware that the leathers she was pulling off had hidden her flat chest and bony build.

"That's okay," said Gabrielle, stripping her blouse up over her head. "I have enough wealth for the two of us."

"And so you do," whispered the warlord in awestruck appreciation of the bard's generous figure. The renowned washboard abs were nowhere to be seen, but Xena didn't mourn their absence. When she laid Gabrielle down on the cot and covered the bard's body with her own, Xena felt as if she was sinking into two feather pillows, and it was the most exquisite sensation she'd experienced in years.

Gabrielle's arms circled Xena's neck, drawing her close for yet another burning kiss. When the bard finally let go, they were both rather breathless. "I've always wanted to be ravished by a warlord."

"I could have sworn," murmured Xena, as insistent hands worked their way down her back, "that I was the one being ravished."

"Ravished by a bard...." Gabrielle shook her head. "Nope, no dramatic potential there."

"Speak for yourself," said Xena with an appreciative moan as those sure hands reached their goal.

They didn't bother with coherent conversation beyond that point. So it wasn't until much later, after they had collapsed into a companionable tangle of limbs, that Gabrielle said, "I've been thinking about our problem."

"What problem is that?" asked Xena, nuzzling the bard's hair. By candlelight, it had the reddish highlights she'd always imagined to be Gabrielle's color.

"The problem of all those combat challenges and the need for you to keep a lower profile."

"I can take them on," muttered the warlord, before breaking into a wide yawn. "Kill 'em all."

"Down, tiger," said the bard with an indulgent chuckle. "You don't need to prove anything to me. No, I think the time has come for the Warrior Princess to retire. It would feel... weird making up new stories about Xena. You're too real for me to use as inspiration anymore."

"So what's your plan?" Xena's voice was slurred with drowsiness.

"A spectacular, gore-strewn farewell for the Warrior Princess. Lots of fighting and dismemberment. I can even off a few Amazons for good measure. Maybe work in a crucifixion. Yeah, that would be an awesome way for her to die."

Xena grimaced, encroaching slumber pushed back by her queasy contemplation of the bard's scenario. "You have the most morbid imagination."

"Oh, no — this is going to be an epic love story. I'll kill myself off, too. Trust me, this can work."

"And then what?"

"I suppose I'll create another hero, a woman who does something different. Like fighting bacchae instead of warlords. Yes, that's the ticket! I bet I could dine out for weeks on the opening story alone."

"Yeah... yeah, I suppose you could...." Xena propped herself up on one elbow and studied the bard lying beside her. For two such very different-looking women, they fit together remarkably well on the narrow cot. "You know," she said, with a rather poor attempt at nonchalance, "now that my army isn't doing very much looting and pillaging, the men get kind of bored at night. It would raise morale if I hired a bard to entertain them."

"Really?" Unlike the warlord, Gabrielle managed a quite convincing casual tone, but then she'd had a lot of practice on stage. "Just how long could you use the services of this bard?"

"Well..." The warlord's voice was strained with apprehension, but she stalwartly marched forward. "Morale is very important to a good administrator. I think we'd always need a first-class bard around... one like you."

"Why, Xena, I thought you'd never ask."

Despite Gabrielle's teasing tone, Xena had to wipe a few tears off the bard's cheeks. With a contented sigh, the warlord said, "I was a little worried you'd say no. You don't seem to like happy endings."

"I try to avoid being predictable, but sometimes a cliche is just what a story needs."

"Like happily ever after?" ventured Xena.

"Yeah," said the bard. "Like happily ever after."

And her smile stole Xena's breath away.

[9r7g5h]

Remember All - P10

Fandom: Xena: Warrior Princess

Overall Rating: T+ (Rating subject to change)

Genre: General

Summary: Given another chance, left with her memories of their first time through, Gabrielle knows there’s only one option for her- let Xena live. Whatever she had to do, whatever she had to change to make sure that would happen, Gabrielle was willing to do it.

Words: 3,765

AN: Next chapter! :D I hope you guys are ready- I know I'm not, and I'm the one writing everything.

Disclaimer: I do not own Xena.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, ???

Xena had asked her, once, how she knew the difference between a vision and reality. When the vision seemed so real, so vivid and detailed, how was she sure?

Gabrielle had just said she wasn't. She never was, not really. Not until she woke up from the vision and realized everything hadn't happened yet. The truth, if a bit bent to protect her secrets at the time, but it had been enough for Xena to sate her curiosity. She had expressed wonder at how realistic visions could be, how those little glimpses into the future were so strong as to seem real, and after had forgotten about it. She had her answer, so why continue on?

Sitting there, Xena curled around her as she laid out their deaths at Caesar's hands, Gabrielle knew she remembered. Knew she was thinking back to that conversation, to that confirmation that the visions were real- real enough to feel pain, pleasure, everything that the real world brought with it. She knew because Xena had started shaking, her body curling tighter around Gabrielle until she finally shifted, sitting up so Gabrielle was in her lap, pressed protectively against her chest while her limbs formed a cage around her. Her hand had started pressing light, soothing touches where the pain would have been most, touches that would have done something had the pain been present.

Gabrielle didn't tell her everything. Didn't tell her that it was a future crucifixion, still a few years out if they had been in their previous lives. She didn't reveal Alti, nor the quest Xena had had to go on to realize that she wasn't dead. Gabrielle told her just what she needed to know for her to understand, to drive home the fact that Gabrielle was aware of just how dangerous Caesar was.

She told her about the jail cell, the cold and damp that could never be driven away. She told her about the Roman soldiers, their hands hard and their grasps painful even as their eyes expressed pity. Told her about the cross, the wood hard as she was laid upon it. Told her about the nails, the pain as the freezing metal sunk into her skin with every fall of the hammer. Told her about her legs, the bones breaking with every swing of the mallet, the continuation of the pain almost enough to make her pass out, had it not been too painful to do so. Told her about the jarring ache as the cross was raised, told her about the freezing cold that had turned her fingers blue, numbing the pain until it all started to burn.

Told her about suffocating, every breath a hard won fight, until she couldn't fight anymore. Told her about the peace that had finally settled as she slipped away, grateful at least for the release from the pain.

Gabrielle told her everything she needed to hear, and by the time she was done she could barely move, Xena held her so tightly. Held her almost to the point of discomfort, though Gabrielle didn't try to escape, didn't ask to be released, just let herself be held.

She probably would have started to shake too, if her body had been free to do so. Talking had reawoken the pain, a dull ache in comparison to what it once had been, but it had never been something they had talked about before. In their first life it had just happened, had been another painful event in a long line of them, and, as was their way, they had pushed it off. Pushed it as far from their minds as possible, focusing instead on the fact that they were alive, that the Romans were after them, and, eventually, Eve.

They had never talked about the fact that they had died, by the gods they had actually died. Died in a painful, horrible way that, as Gabrielle was realizing, had scarred her more than she had realized it would.

"I'm going to kill him."

"What?" Gabrielle was surprised when Xena spoke- it'd been a long time since she had finished telling her tale, time they had sat in silence, just holding and being held. The verbal intrusion a surprise, though not one Gabrielle was unthankful for; anything to draw her mind back into the present, where they were both whole and healthy and alive. "What did you say?"

"Caesar," Xena growled, his name practically a curse. "He was already going to die for what he did to me," she continued, "but for what he's going to do...was going to do...did to you? He's going to die slow."

"Do you see why I fear him," Gabrielle asked softly, shifting slightly so she could better look at where she believed Xena's face was- or tried to, at least, for Xena's grip held fast. "He was able to beat us once, in my vision. Even with how things have changed, he's a crafty, cruel man. I trust you to know him. I trust him to know you as well."

They didn't speak much after that. Instead Xena just held her, eventually lapsing into a soft, slow lullaby, her fingers running through Gabrielle's hair as she sang. It wasn't one Gabrielle was familiar with, the language low and rumbling, but either way it was a comfort. Something this gentle, something this full of love, could never be found upon the cross.

Even though she hadn't been awake for long, Gabrielle found herself drifting off to sleep, only awakening when Xena shifted them so they were both laying down, her hold on Gabrielle still almost tight enough to be suffocating. It was light; Gabrielle was sure she woke up quite a few times in the while they laid there, curled around each other, but still it was restful. It was dreamless and calm, and nowadays? That was all she could ask.

The next time they were both awake, Xena led the way into Boadicea's tent and asked for volunteers for the mission.

"I thought," Boadicea said slowly, eyeing Xena up and down, "that you were going to go in alone."

"If I'm right," Xena said just as slowly, meeting and returning Boadicea's gaze, "and Caesar only has a small force with him, then I would be enough. But if I'm wrong? Getting the gates open so your people can capture Londinium is our most important goal, and if I'm wrong then the more the better. Not too many," she clarified, "but a dozen more men should be enough that at least one will make it to the city gates."

"I don't have anyone as good as you are, unless you're taking her," Boadicea admitted, rubbing at her ribs as she nodded towards Gabrielle, causing Xena to glance over with a raised eyebrow, "but I'll ask for volunteers. All good men from our highest rank will step forward, I'm sure. But let's hope you're right, Xena. I don't want to waste lives if I don't have to."

"If I'm right, then we won't be. If I'm wrong...I'll do my best to get them out alive."

That seemed enough for Boadicea, who left to send out the request. Leaving them alone, Gabrielle taking that moment to speak.

"I'm coming with you."

For a moment Xena looked as if she was going to argue, her normal denials of Gabrielle doing anything that would put her too close to the center of danger, especially if Gabrielle didn't need to do it, already forming on her tongue. But she paused. Paused and turned to look at Gabrielle, her head cocked to the side ever so slightly as she considered it. Considered it and sighed, shaking her head in response.

"You'll stay close," was the final verbal answer Gabrielle got, but it was win nonetheless. She was going with Xena.

It didn't take long before Boadicea returned, a handful of men in tow, including a couple of the men Gabrielle recognized from the ship from Chin. She nodded politely as Xena explained the plan, the men bunched together around the lopsided table to see the map, all of them vying for the best position. Already Gabrielle could tell they would be a problem- too many leaders, quite a few of them looking at Xena with a dismissive look on their face, as if they had right to question her. But they listened, occasionally glancing over at Boadicea for direction, and when she gave no indication that Xena was wrong, they all nodded in agreement.

Only one seemed doubtful, and when Xena paused he spoke, reaching out to tap on the crudely drawn Londinium.

"What if they see us?"

"Then we retreat," Xena said, giving a little shrug, "and think of something else. Boadicea won't advance until after we've opened the gates, so if we need to fall back and change our tactics, it shouldn't be a problem. Right?" Xena glanced over at Boadicea, her question less of a question and more of a statement; Boadicea nodded her confirmation anyway, giving a little shrug.

"Not much we can do if you are seen," she said, "so don't be, or pray to the gods this one’s able to keep you alive." She nodded at Xena, her expression grim.

At first a few men chuckled at what they thought a joke; who was this random Thracian woman to come in and act as their leader while their true leader stood to the side? But watching as Boadicea’s face darkened, those few quickly grew silent, looking at Xena with another eye.

They didn’t speak much after that, instead listening intently as Xena and Boadicea went deeper into their plan, laying out all the different tasks the men would be expected to complete once they were within the walls. Who was to focus on archers, taking out as many as possible with their backs turned so the invading troops would have fewer causalities. Who was to focus on ground troops, causing chaos in Caesar’s own ranks. Who was to focus on the door, opening and keeping it open for the coming wave of force.

All good information to know, though Gabrielle barely listened. She knew Xena expected her to stay close, to keep at Xena’s back while they took on the most important job of them all- defending the gates. There was no other way in or out, from what Boadicea’s spies had been able to figure out, so the moment they took the city, Caesar was also theirs, making him a low priority. With most of the Romans rushing to the gate to close it once more, that was where Xena was needed. Where Gabrielle was expected to be.

But not, Gabrielle had decided, where she would go.

She wasn’t going to wait. She wasn’t going to spend that entire battle worrying, wondering, stressing over whether or not Caesar was truly a threat. She wasn’t going to let him get close enough to Xena for her to find out.

So instead of listening, Gabrielle studied the crude drawings Boadicea’s spies had been able to make, memorizing the layout of the city, where the important buildings were, where she would need to go. Instead she planned her route, made her peace with what would need to be done, and readied herself.  

Readied herself for the fight to come, for the blood that was finally going to stain her hands. Because she would die before she let Caesar near Xena.

The rest of the day was uneasy, everyone milling around the general's tent, no one willing to leave in case some sort of information appeared, information that would affect the task before them. They shifted and coughed, talked among themselves, dug heartily into the food that was brought for them- but the men never left, instead looking between Xena and Boadicea for some kind of answer to a question they never asked. They were already prepared, weapons and armor and supplies already packed, just needed to be grabbed as they left; they were just waiting for the order, the moment to leave.

It was suffocating. That many people in a single room would have made it unbearable to begin with, but this deep underground, where there was no merciful breeze to clear it away?

Gabrielle touched Xena on the arm, and when she looked at her, Gabrielle jerked her head towards the entrance to the tent. "I'm going to wander a bit. I'll see you at ours."

Xena just nodded, offering her a small half smile before returning to the map, staring at it intently. Studying every curve of the river, calculating how deep it ran, making a mental picture for them all to follow when it was just them in the dead of night, no map to lead them. And with the moon new, it would be pitch dark as well, making it all the harder to navigate the unfamiliar territory, making her mental painting that much more important.

Even underground, it was a relief to leave the warm, suffocating air of the tent for the slightly cooler, still just as suffocating air of the caves. Even as the twinge of smoke from a nearby fire began to burn her eyes, Gabrielle still just stood there and breathed, enjoying the sensation of air filling her lungs, the slightest hint of fresh air that barely made it to them this deep, taking a moment to ignore and forget the constant press of rocks around them as she thought.

It would be a lie to say she hadn't been enjoying the innocence of this life. That she hadn't been enjoying the fact that she didn't have to kill, that she could go through an entire battle without blood on her hands and clothes at the end of it. That she could wear colors other than red, a shade of red that the blood stains wouldn't show on, that she could pretend were clean without having to scrub the fabric thin. She could fight without being deadly, could change the world without taking a life, could, in this world, keep her soul clean. Because in this life, everyone she had killed in the last were still alive. For good or for bad, they lived, and their deaths couldn't be put on her. She had the memory, but not the crime.

Part of her had hoped that it could stay like this; a contradictory hope, since she had entered this new life more than willing to kill, to end any who came between her and Xena's life. She knew without a doubt that, if it came to it, she'd never be able to wash her hands free of the blood if it came to a choice of letting Xena die or killing to keep her alive. She was willing to add a few more faces to her nightmares, a few more names to the list of kills she knew, because it would keep Xena alive. But still, she had been enjoying the simplicity of this world. A world were knocking unconscious was still an acceptable option.

That was going to change. So Gabrielle prepared.

It didn't take her long; she was in the middle of an army, so gathering what she needed took little time at all. And no one gave her a second glance- she was one of them, so she took what she needed with just a nod of thanks to the people giving it to her, no questions or answers necessary. Gabrielle prepared herself for what was to come.

She spent a little longer wandering, just looking at the warriors that had all gathered to fight under Boadicea's flag, men and women more than ready to die for her and their home if that was what it took to drive out the Romans. Just like she was willing to do the same for the woman she considered her home, her life, her love.

She went back to the tent eventually, sliding silently into the darkness, easily ignoring her new, familiar weight. It didn't take her long to pack the few things she would need- water, food wrapped to keep it dry, a sling for her staff to keep it across her back as she swam. Things that her hands just knew how to do, even in the pure darkness, having done them so many times before, both in her memories and her dreams. That was where Xena found her, just finishing up her packing.

"Someone's going to come wake us when it's time," Xena said, fumbling with the straps on her armor- straps Gabrielle came over to do, pushing Xena's hands away as her own quickly undid them, following memories much older than Xena knew. "Apparently, we've been down here longer than I thought. The moon's tonight; we'll leave soon." She sounded slightly bitter as she spoke, her obvious distaste for their current accommodations, the never ending darkness that made time inconsequential, clear. "For now, let's get some rest."

Gabrielle paused for a moment, her fingers stilling on the strap as she thought. Letting out a small huff of a laugh, she undid the last of them, allowing Xena to shrug out of her breastplate and armor, leaving her in just her leathers.

Tonight. She had thought she would have more time, some more time to come to terms with the fact that, after tonight, she was a murderer once more. For a good cause, to keep Xena alive, but the change was a quick one. If she survived. Caesar was a tricky one, and Gabrielle wasn't sure if, in combat, she could win. He could hold his own against Xena, and while she could as well, the chances of her winning? Of defeating him, of landing the killing blow before he landed one of his own? The chances were still suspect.

Something she had accepted, a long time ago. Back in their first lives, she had accepted that the path she walked with Xena would one day lead to her end. And at least this life was already different, perhaps even different enough to keep Xena alive if she wasn't there to do it. She could go back to Chin, to Lao Ma, and serve as her Warrior Princess. Or back to Cyrene, or to the Amazons, or a hundred other places that were possible homes for Xena if she didn't survive.

She hoped she would, by the gods she hoped she had more time, but if this was to be her destiny, she would meet it.

She wasn't sure how long they laid there, wrapped in an uneasy sleep, neither fully submitting to Morpheus' call. They talked for a bit, mindless conversations about what their plans were after this was over, things they weren't sure about and still didn't come to a conclusion for. They dozed eventually, rest finding them unwilling and nervous- at least, Gabrielle was. Xena seemed calm, composed; ready to fight, angry, the flame that had started earlier when she had heard what Caesar had done to Gabrielle still burning hot within her, but tempered. Ready to face what was to come.

Gabrielle was as well, but she was nervous. What would they find, when they breached Londinium? Would Xena's knowledge of Caesar hold true, finding them against a small, easily defeated force? Or would she be wrong, and all that waited for them was a trap?

For however long that lasted, Gabrielle wasn't sure. But soon enough a voice called from the outside of their tent, requesting that they join the rest of the party at the entrance to the caves. For better or for worst, it was time.

It was strange, walking back into the open world after such a long time underground. Or what had seemed like a long time, Gabrielle realized, for their visit had taken less than four days, four days that had seemed stretched, unending, unbroken from the constant darkness that reigned. And even though it was still dark, the sky cloudy and moonless, it was vast- she could feel the wind and the open spaces around her, a sudden release from the almost grave tight conditions the crowded caves had given.

It was almost unnerving, because she had gotten used to the caves, at least temporarily. But quickly Gabrielle shook off those feelings, instead focusing on the mission before her.

It didn't take them long to get through the forests, Xena letting some of Boadicea's men take the lead- they knew the area, knew where they were in relation to the river, and so she stepped aside and let them lead. And luckily everyone was quiet, their armor and weapons muffled by cloth, their bags held tightly to them so nothing could rustle and shift, their feet placed as carefully as they could while they walked. They were as close to silent as a group that large could be, gliding between the trees like the banshees once had, ghosts themselves.

The river was much the same; sliding down the banks, dropping into the water, Gabrielle tried hard not to think about what else was in there with them. She had heard some men talking about the horrors of the river before, when she had been helping around the camp- creatures both natural and fae called its depths home, creatures that hungered no matter how much they ate. Creatures that wanted nothing more than to feast upon mortal flesh, constrained only by the land surrounding them. Stories, she was sure- at least most of them were, because while the creatures of stories could exist, rarely did they exist as people perceived them. But still, she couldn't help the shudder as she slid into the water with the rest of the party, quickly up to her neck.

But nothing came after them; no hands reached for their ankles, no horses tried to drown them. There were a few fish, either curious or brave or stupid, one of that set, that came up to them, but otherwise they were left alone. Alone to swim as quietly as they could, though this was harder- weighed down as many of them were, the splashing was loud in the night, hopefully not so loud as to be heard as they approached. Even Gabrielle had her trouble, the staff on her back awkward to swim with, knocking into either her shoulder or her calf with every kick and stroke. Only Xena remained as silent as before, her head (a darker patch of darkness in the night) their only guide as she led them.

Led them up the river, towards Londinium.

[9r7g5h]

Wingless

Fandom: Xena: Warrior Princess

Rating: M

Genre: Horror/Romance (As much as it can be) Dark fic. 

Summary:   She couldn't let her walk through hell alone. So she just waited until she joined her.

Words: 2,992

AN: As dark as this is, it was actually a hell of a lot darker in the original draft. However, I hated myself and so I cut quite a bit of it. Leaving us with this absolute monstrosity that I'm a little bit sick of. Oh the well. If dark fics are your thing, I hope you enjoy. If not, then turn back now, because when I say it gets dark, I mean dark.

Disclaimer: I do not own Xena.

It always stung, entering heaven. Stung her skin, her eyes, her lungs- everything about the bright, shining realm of goodness and light hurt. It was a natural repellant; some of the weaker demons were destroyed the moment they entered the protective circle of heaven, while others could barely stand existing within it. Few could walk through the previously glorious fields that had been the realm of light, and even fewer could do it for any length of time.

Xena was one of a kind. It stung, yes, would weaken her if she spent too much time here, but too much time was subjective. Always expanding with every visit, becoming a little longer with each time. As if she was becoming immune to the presence of good, her very existence within the realm tainting it just enough to let her live.

Considering she was Queen of it all- of heaven, of hell, of the mortal realm itself, all bowing before her- it pleased her. Pleased her that the ruins were finally allowing her, were finally admitting that she was their ruler, and so she bore the sting and smiled. Smiled as she walked amongst the destruction she herself had wrought, her every step withering the grass beneath her.

It was a beautiful walk, it honestly was. What mortal part of her remained could recognize that, even though little of what the world had once been remained. The once glorious buildings were rubble, pearly white and golden bones littering the ground around them. She’d been almost surprised to watch as the angel’s bodies decayed, whatever force giving them their longevity and practical immortality gone after death. But even the decay had been beautiful, leaving behind glorious skeletons in its wake. Winged soldiers decorating the field where they had fallen, their armor dented and torn but still exquisite in its disrepair.

Almost none of them remained. None of them had been able to stand against her; even in vast numbers, every single soul that had arrived in heaven since the beginning of time turned angelic to fight her, they hadn’t been able to bring her down. Instead they had fallen, fallen before her sword and chakram and claws.

She had been the one to deplete heaven of its residence, she alone. She had torn Michael’s heart from his chest, had ripped Lucifer limb from limb, and had laughed as she watched the Light flee.

For her efforts, the population of heaven had dropped from uncountable to one.

There was only one building left standing- what its purpose had been before now, Xena didn’t know. But now it was practically a shrine, turned for her own purposes to worship the one thing Xena felt worthy of her worship. Of her devotion. Of her love.

“Gabrielle,” Xena said softly- her voice as close to gentle, as close to love as she could get it. “I’m here.”

Gabrielle didn’t respond. She gave no indication that she had heard Xena, at least not one that others would have been able to see. But Xena knew her, knew her better than Xena knew herself, and Gabrielle had stiffened the moment Xena had entered the room. Stiffened just enough to cause her chains to jingle ever so slightly, the sound pleasant in this world even with the horrible implications they held.

“I’m sorry it’s been a while,” Xena said, stepping forward. The words burned on her tongue- there was no sorrow in hell, no regret; at least, not any more. They were human emotions, celestial emotions, ranked up there with kindness, caring, and love, all almost poison to her kind.

Xena was strong, though, and even in the depths she had managed to keep a little bit of her mortality alive. Just enough to spare Gabrielle, to keep her instead of adding her body to the fields outside. Just enough to keep loving her in the only way a demon could.

“It’s hard being the Queen of everything,” Xena added on, a small chuckle coming from her lips. She took a couple more steps and paused, breathing in the stinging air, examining and judging Gabrielle from where she stood. Her demonic presence would hurt her, Xena knew, and so she took it slow, with enough time for Gabrielle to adjust.

Only the slightest of winces to show she was in pain, but still otherwise Gabrielle refused to otherwise acknowledge her. Her head bowed, she kept her gaze upon the floor below, her stance still the same as it had been before Xena had entered.

Xena’s lips pursed, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. So that was how she was going to play it.

Xena closed the distance between them, her movements blurred as she leapt, her wings giving one single, powerful flap to drive her to the front of the makeshift temple. Wrapping one clawed hand around Gabrielle’s throat, the other twisting into her hair and yanking, Xena smiled a cool, wicked smile as Gabrielle was forced to look up, their gazed finally meeting.

Even as pained tears welled within her eyes, Gabrielle’s glare was strong. Strong, fierce, never wavering as she stared her down, the hatred Gabrielle felt for her clear within her stare.

“Hey honey,” Xena said, raising her eyebrow as she sneered at her wife. “Miss me?”

Gabrielle spat, her saliva leaving a burning trail down Xena’s face as it hit.

For a moment Xena considered retribution. She could already feel the skin on Gabrielle’s neck beginning to burn under her claws, and it would only take a moment to turn them inwards and pull. Tighten until her claws sank into flesh, pull until a chunk of flesh came away with the movement, leaving Gabrielle gasping and drowning in her own blood.

It wouldn’t kill her. No, experience had told Xena there was only one way to kill an angel: tearing out their hearts. Anything else they could recover from, given enough time and rest away from demonic presence. It would just be very, very painful, enough to send her much more mortal soul into a panic as the blood filled her lungs. And perhaps it would teach her a thing or two.

But instead Xena just sighed, releasing her hair and wiping away Gabrielle’s spit with her finger, flicking it off to the side, wiping her hand on what technically counted as a shirt. She let go of her neck as well, stepped back and watched as the burning fingerprints she had left behind already began to heal- a pity. She wanted to tear out the little blonde’s throat, but Xena had other plans for the night.

Gabrielle would wish Xena had by the time she was done, there was no doubt about that. Would wish death would finally come to end this, or that she could finally be free and end Xena herself. Neither of which was going to happen.

“I sometimes forget we used to be mortals,” Xena admitted as she walked to one side of the room, kneeling first. The thick chain mounted into the wall still looked sturdy, the angelic material more than strong enough to keep Gabrielle in place. Even a good tug did nothing, and while the edge of her chakram left a deep scar in the metal, it quickly disappeared as the celestial steel healed itself. Xena checked each of the links as she talked, ending at the manacle that locked around Gabrielle’s bare ankle.

Spreading her wings, Xena did the same for the other chain on that side of the room, checking every link and manacle that tied Gabrielle’s arm into the air, keeping her immobile. Crossing to the other side, she did the same for the two chains there, her words never stopping as she examined the bindings that kept Gabrielle spread into an ‘X’ in the center of Xena’s private temple.

“We were so soft,” Xena said as she did her inspection. “Soft and gentle. Mortals still are. Even after two thousand years of my rule, they still find it within themselves to be so. It’d be infuriating, if it wasn’t fascinating. Everywhere you look, you still find humans helping each other. Sharing what little food they have during the famines. Trying to help ease each other’s pains during the plagues. Beseeching me for mercy, despite knowing they’ll just end up on a cross. It’s fascinating. And all unnecessary, if you would just agree to join me.”

That was the point to all of this- Gabrielle. Everything had always been for her: from taking over heaven and killing the angels to chaining her in this room until she gave in, all of this had been for her. To convince Gabrielle to give up, give in, to join her as a Queen, a Supreme Ruler of Hell. To show her that she was wrong, that she had always been wrong. To show her that there was no good, there was no light, that she should just give in and accept that goodness didn’t exist, at least not any more.

To join her, become a demon, and rule all.

This was all for Gabrielle, and if that meant breaking her? Then so be it.

But still Gabrielle said nothing, did nothing, just returned a gaze so full of hatred it almost made Xena flinch. Almost. Because while the mortal part of her cried out at seeing that, the rest of her just smiled. That hatred was the entrance to the path Xena wanted her to walk. She just needed to keep pushing her towards it.

“This is all your fault, Gabrielle,” Xena tutted as she finished her examination of the manacles, and more. Running her hand up Gabrielle’s bare leg, Xena let her claws trail over Gabrielle’s naked flesh, watching as thin, burning lines appeared over her thigh, her stomach, up between her breasts, taking pleasure in the way Gabrielle trembled under her touch. Even after all this time, after everything, the mortal part of Gabrielle that still recognized her as her soulmate still desired her- a lovely note that Xena would make great use of after Gabrielle joined her. She continued to let her fingers wander, remembering the many times she had touched Gabrielle like this on earth, before that claw finally booped her on the nose. “If you would just join me, then humanity would be fine. I would end the cycles, allow them to flourish- maybe even become a benevolent ruler. But, because you keep denying me? They suffer, and curse your name for it.”

That caught her attention, Gabrielle’s jaw tightening and her previously loose hands curling into fists. She could hear them, the humans- angels were cursed with hearing the cries of humanity, and as the only angel left? She heard them all, and she knew what Xena meant.

Xena had started a religion around her, around her refusal. Had told all of humanity that the only reason they lived through decades of famines, plagues, war and death was because she, Gabrielle, a vengeful goddess, refused to give them her blessing. That her lover was trying to get an acceptance out of her, and once she did, it would all stop. They would stop cycling- the generational famines would stop, bringing harvests full of plenty. That would stop the wars over food, which would stop the diseases that grew on the massive dead that littered the battle fields, leading to the end of death itself.

All Gabrielle had to do was say yes. And her refusal to do so only led more to suffer.

But she would never say yes, not anytime soon, at least. Because to give in would mean heaven had truly fallen, and even though it clearly pained her, Gabrielle couldn’t let go of the light.

Which was why Xena just had to keep on pushing.

“You’re healing nicely,” Xena said nonchalantly as she walked behind Gabrielle, examining her back. Her wings were beautiful, obsidian and emerald and the slightest hints of gold, the feathers thick and full. A clear, undeniable mark of those angels strong enough to hold their own against demons, to stand their ground on the battlefield of hell itself.

Xena herself had once worn them, before she had seen the light. Or, rather, experienced the lack of it. But now they were just a marker of how long she had, in fact been gone. Far too long, she saw that now; a mistake she couldn’t made again.

Reaching out, running her claws up Gabrielle’s spine, Xena gentle caressed where her wings met skin, the strange mix of flesh and patchy feathers creating a sight she could never entirely get used to. It was strange and beautiful, much like Gabrielle herself, a sight Xena could stare at for eternity.

Turning her claws, it was with a single movement and a single, sickening crack that the wing tore from her back, forcing out a cry from Gabrielle’s lips as it fell to the ground behind her, twitching as the muscles spasmed in their last throws of life. Its twin quickly joined it, leaving Gabrielle sobbing as she bled from the two miniscule stumps that remained at her shoulders, the bone and skin ragged and torn and twitching from the pain as blood leaked down her back.

“You were becoming strong, Gabrielle,” Xena said, kicking at the wing, shrugging at the smear of blood it left on the floor. She would grab them on her way out, add them to her pile- two millennia was a long time, and Gabrielle’s wings healed fast. “I can’t have that. You might just be able to break out of here if you did.”

Almost a joke- no being, angelic or demonic, could break through celestial steal, even at their full strength. Gabrielle was stuck there until Xena saw fit to release her, until Gabrielle agreed to join her. Until then?

Gabrielle jerked on her chains, the muscles in her arms and thighs strainging as they tried to pull her free, tried to reach back and do something, anything, to soothe away the pain of where her wings had once been. But the chains didn’t budge, the manacles gave no indication of failing, and there was no chance of escape.

Just how Xena wanted her.

“I can help with the pain,” Xena practically purred as she stepped around her and forward once more, almost close enough so they could touch. “Just say the words, my love, and I came make it go away.”

For a long while Gabrielle said nothing, just struggled to bite back the sobs threatening their way from her throat, fought to regain the control she previously had. How long they stood there, Xena wasn’t sure- time ran differently in the realms. She could leave here, return to the mortal realm, and find that thousands of years had passed. More likely, she would find that what had felt like days, weeks, months here was only a couple of seconds in the realm of man. It was always a roll of the dice, never a guarantee she could count on, but that didn’t matter, not really.

All that mattered was Gabrielle, and lost as she was in her pain, it seemed almost as if she might say ‘yes.’

Instead she just raised her head once again, her cheeks tear-streaked but her eyes once again on fire, glaring with more hatred than Xena had ever seen before.

“One day,” Gabrielle finally croaked, the first words she had said in longer than Xena could keep track of, “you won’t come visit me soon enough, Xena. And then? I’ll end this.”

Xena just smiled- a cool, wicked smile- and leaned in to kiss her, her lips rough against Gabrielle’s unyielding own. Not a kiss of love or even lust, but instead a kiss of possession, a kiss to promise a battle to come that would more than likely end them both.

“I would wait for that day, but it will never come.” Their lips were burned when Xena finally pulled away, painful as she ran her tongue over the celestial-caused marks. Gabrielle had her own set, the skin peeling and destroyed by the contact. It would heal, of course, leaving her once again sweet and pink instead of tasting like blood and pus, but for next time.

“Our souls are destined to be together, Gabrielle,” Xena said, her voice as close to soft as it could get. “Whether it’s you joining me in hell- and make no mistake, once day you will- or the much less likely chance of us exiting this life at the end of each other’s swords, they will be together. It’s your choice how. And until then?”

Reaching around her, Xena pressed the palms of her hands against Gabrielle’s nubs, wincing as their skin began to burn, burn and burn and burn, Gabrielle screaming and writhing in her chains as what remained of her wings burned within Xena’s grasp.  

When she finally pulled away- when Gabrielle finally slumped in her chains, even her angelic constitution unable to keep her conscious through that- Gabrielle’s back had stopped bleeding and the bones of Xena’s palms had turned blackened and charred, leaving little left. They hurt, hurt almost worse than anything else Xena had ever know, but she shrugged it off as she grabbed Gabrielle’s wings, tucking them under her arm as she turned to leave.

Pausing in the doorway, glancing back one last time at her soulmate, for a brief moment Xena felt a pang. A single bit of remorse, the tiniest sliver of guilt for causing one she loved so much pain…only to squash it as quickly as it came.

Demons had no capacity for regret, and besides: Xena was only doing what she had. They were soulmates, as it was, and their love was greater than heaven and hell combined. They had to be together, and one day Gabrielle would see that.

She couldn’t just let her walk through hell alone.

[9r7g5h]

Shut

Fandom: Xena: Warrior Princess 

Genre: Humor

Rating: K

Words: 1,704

Summary: Joxer really, really needed to learn when to keep his mouth shut. 

AN: So a week and a half ago, I asked people on tumblr to give me numbers so I could pull fic ideas from the vast list of fic ideas I have. @forestfairyunicorn gave me number 123, which resulted in this fic! I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Xena.

Joxer was going to die.

Being a warrior, death was always on the horizon, just waiting to strike. Like a cobra, or a panther, only held off by his astonishing reflexes and superhumanly quick wit. And, of course, his good looks- even the goddess Celesta had turned a blind eye to his more dangerous actions after getting an eyeful of what a man he was. Had her touch not caused immediate and painful death, they would have consummated their love long ago. But, alas, they couldn’t be, and so their love affair continued through looks instead of touch.

So Joxer was used to death. He had faced it many times and said “Not today, Hades. Not today.” He didn’t fear it, not a single bit, and laughed at the idea that it could ever come for one such as him.

But Xena was a force beyond the gods, beyond Fate and Death and everything in this existence, and to not fear her? Even when the two of them were so close, the closest of confidants (except for Gabrielle, and he was pretty sure that she only took the position of Xena’s “best friend” because she had some things to offer he couldn’t. Like her tongue, and her clever fingers, and her bedtime entertainment. She was one Tartarus of a bard, Joxer would give her that, and she told and wrote a great story), to not fear Xena would be the mark of a fool. And while Joxer was many things- mighty, great, courageous, fantastical- he was not a fool.

So, on a normal day to day basis, he treated Xena with a healthy amount of respect for her powers as a warrior and stayed out of her way as much as he could.

But he had to get involved. He just had to. The warlord had mistaken him for his brother Jett, Gabrielle had landed herself in a cage with a bunch of other slaves, and Xena had been captured and forced into the warlord’s service. She’d been serving the disgusting man his wine, a low position for one such as herself, and so he had to step in.

Even Xena needed the great Joxer’s help, and while she’d clearly been too ashamed to ask him for it, he’d seen the plea in her eyes. Some might have mistaken it for a glare, but Joxer knew better. He had taken one look at her and seen the truth. Her eyes had said ‘Joxer, please, you’re our only hope. Save us.’ And so he’d taken action.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” Xena said as she leaned over, her small top clearly showing her assets as she refilled his goblet once again- the fifth time in the hour since Joxer had been invited into the tent. “About that ambassador you’re meeting with, the one you’re planning on selling the slaves to? I couldn’t help but-“

“But wonder when we’re going to betray him and cut off his head,” Joxer cut in, sending Xena a pleased look that he had picked up on her train of thought. “I say we take his money, give him the slaves, and then come back twenty minutes later with all our men and take them back! We could have the whole thing done in an hour, two tops, especially if we get one of the slaves on our side. Maybe promise one of the girls their freedom if they help out? I noticed a cute little redhead in the pen, maybe she would be willing to play friendly with the ambassador to keep him busy?”

And there. Not only had he picked up on all of Xena’s thoughts, just like two great minds would be able to, but he had even found Gabrielle a role to play in all of this. And once Gabrielle was separated from the rest of the slaves, and the warlord became over concerned with double crossing the ambassador, he’d be able to free Xena from whatever had her captured, rescue Gabrielle from the ambassador’s tent, and save the day.

“An excellent plan,” the warlord said after a moment, nodding wisely and holding his goblet out for more wine- a big drinker, this one. “We just keep selling the girls over and over again, kill anyone who could give us away, and make ourselves rich! The perfect plan- and I should have known it would come from you, Jett.”

“B-but my lord,” Xena protested, scurrying over and pouring him another glass of wine, “that would tarnish your reputation! You’re well known throughout the area as a top quality slave dealer, only passing on the best specimens to the buyer. To damage that ideal, that would destroy you and any future business ventures you might have! Best to let the deal go through without a hitch, to keep the people’s shining opinion of you sparkling.”

Once again, Joxer nodded, picking up on Xena’s vibes. Yeah, her gaze might have been a bit…intense, as she stared at him over the jug of wine, but he knew that was just an act for anyone else. He knew what she wanted.

“What’re you listenin’ to a woman for,” Joxer said, rolling his eyes and slapping Xena’s ass as she walked by- for a second he thought he had over stepped, by the terrifying look on her face as she whirled towards him, but a moment later she smoothed over her anger and stiffly walked away to refill the jug. Perfect. Her protesting the plan and then him coming in and countering everything she said was exactly what would make the warlord go for it. “Come on. Who cares about some reputation- build a new one! A fearsome, terrifying one that will raze the world to the ground. Stick with me, bud, and I’ll make yah rich.”

The warlord laughed and clapped Joxer on the shoulder, his mirth too much to contain. When he had calmed enough to speak, the warlord gestured for Xena to come to him, gently pushing Joxer towards her.

“Take Jett here to the tent next to mine,” he said, still chuckling. “And show him a good time, eh? Want to make sure he stays around for a good long while. Oh, and pass on orders to have that cute little redhead Jett mentioned bathed and prepared. As a gift- a bedmate- to the Ambassador, to show my…good will.”

“Yes, my lord,” Xena said, her voice sickeningly sweet as she gave a little bow, “of course. Please, follow me.”

She didn’t speak as they walked through the camp- a good move, since you never knew who could be listening. The tent, when they finally got there, was small but comfortable, with thick cloth walls that would at least semi-muffle their words if they kept them down. The perfect place to talk, at least as perfect as they would get in the middle of the enemy’s camp.

But the discussion didn’t exactly go as he had planned.

“Are you suicidal, or just insane,” Xena hissed the moment the tent flap closed behind them, her fingers jabbing into his neck and silencing him before he could speak. “Do you know what you just did? Do you even understand the three weeks of planning you just destroyed?”

As if she just realized he couldn’t exactly breathe when his windpipe was partly crushed, Xena jabbed at his neck again, turning away and pacing before he even took his first breath.

“The ambassador stole a very important artifact to the Amazons, and they want it back. Selling Gabrielle and the others as house slaves- all of whom are Amazons- was our only way to get them into the castle so they could steal the artifact back without being slaughtered. And you just convinced the warlord making the deal that it would be better to have Gabrielle have sex with the man and then kill him, getting us nowhere near the castle or the artifact.” Stopping her pacing before him, Xena leaned over so they were eyelevel- and this time, this time Joxer saw the anger, loud and clear. “Do you understand what you’ve done?”

“I thought…” Joxer’s voice trailed off as he swallowed thickly, his heart in his throat making it hard. He did understand what he had done, now that the plan had been laid out for him, and understood he was only alive because the warlord would think it suspicious if he died. “I thought I was helping?”

Even to him his voice sounded weak and pathetic, and perhaps that appealed to some part of Xena’s nature, because her glare slightly softened.

But only slightly, and that did nothing to stop him from fearing for his life.

“Next time we’re in a position like this,” Xena said, her voice a low demand, “you’ll wait until we can talk, and then you’ll do exactly as I say. You’ll promote the ideas I give you, you’ll encourage the lines of action I lay out, and you’ll never, ever dare to speak for me again. Got it?”

Joxer nodded quickly, his helmet sliding over his eyes as he did so.

“Good,” Xena almost purred, pulling away. “Now, I’m going to go do damage control and see if this plan can be salvaged. You stay here like a good boy, and if anyone asks, I rocked your world. Got it?”

Again, Joxer nodded quickly, well aware that that was the correct answer to her question, and unwilling to find out what would happen if he got it wrong again today.

“Oh, and Joxer?” Xena paused at the tent entrance, her head half turned so she could just see him out of the corner of her eye.

A terrifying sight, because he knew he would be dead in a moment if she wanted, and it was only because of her good graces that he wasn’t.

“Yes, Xena?”

“Touch my ass again, and you’re losing that hand.”

“Yes Xena. Sorry Xena. It won’t happen again.”

With that she was gone, and once again Joxer had to tell Hades not today, though not for the lack of the god trying. Because if they couldn’t fix this, he was dead. Xena was going to kill him, and he’d be dead.