Chapter Text
101: Sins of the Past
“You can sleep over there,” Xena said, tossing Gabrielle a heavy fur. Gabrielle didn’t expect it to hit her so hard in the face. Regardless, she stood to lay it out for herself on the far side of the fire. A little thrill shot through her when her shy smile was returned by Xena.
Gabrielle spread out her fur and sat cross-legged upon it. She pulled her battered scroll case out of her equally battered pack, and spread a piece of parchment on her knee. Inkpot next, carefully set on the grass where she wouldn’t spill it on the fur. She dipped her quill and began to scratch away quietly. After a short while, she felt a tingle, and looked up. Xena was still seated across the fire, but instead of stoking it, she was watching Gabrielle, those blue eyes somehow both calculating like a predator and cautious like prey.
“What are you writing?” she asked.
“A story,” Gabrielle replied. She waited for Xena to ask what it was about, but the question didn’t come. Xena had looked down and returned to her fire poker. Gabrielle decided she didn’t need permission. “It’s about today.” Still nothing. “A record of your saving of Amphipolis.” That did it. Xena’s head snapped up.
“My what?” Her eyes flashed.
“You know, you’re going to need someone to record all this,” Gabrielle said cheerfully. “Someone to tell the stories of your adventures, make sure the name Xena is reflected accurately in history. Something tells me you’re not going to keep notes as you go.”
Xena shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “The best thing history can do is forget about me,” she said shortly, teeth clenched.
“Maybe the old you,” Gabrielle countered. “But something tells me the world is going to want to know about the new Xena.”
“Gabrielle…” Xena’s voice had softened into a warning drawl. The sound of her name coming from those lips did something to Gabrielle’s stomach that she couldn’t name. She huffed out a breath and ploughed on.
“Besides, I’ve always wanted to be a travelling bard. I can do so much more than cook and clean and brush your horse.”
“You’re going to cook and clean and brush my horse?” Xena’s left eyebrow raised in amusement.
Gabrielle bit her lip. She’d walked right into that one. “Just as an example,” she muttered, packing up her writing supplies. She gave Xena a last long look before reclining on her fur to sleep. “Goodnight, Xena,” she called across the fire. There was a long pause before she heard the mumbled “Goodnight, Gabrielle” in return.
As she had trained her body to do, Xena awoke at dawn, just as the first rays of sun began to spread over the sky. She stood immediately and stretched, limbering up her body for another day of constant movement. She glanced across camp and saw Gabrielle still fast asleep, cocooned in the fur Xena had given her. Xena wondered how she’d fared on her first night outdoors, but left her where she was as she began to pack up camp.
The chores were methodical and second nature to her by now: splashing her face and hair in the nearby stream, neatly packing her bedroll, kicking dirt over the final smoking embers of the fire, tacking up Argo, and now, carefully checking her armour and weapons, a piece of her mother’s bread in her mouth as she worked. When all was said and done, Gabrielle was still asleep. Xena glanced at the sun, now well cleared of the horizon, and mulled over her options.
On one hand, she could simply leave. They were close enough to Amphipolis for Gabrielle to find her way back and then hop on a trade caravan the rest of the way to Potadeia. On the other, it didn’t feel quite right to leave a young woman with virtually no survival skills alone in the woods. And she had saved Xena’s life, hadn’t she? Xena sighed and walked over to Gabrielle’s prone form. She nudged her with the toe of her boot and received a muffled murmur in response.
“Gabrielle, it’s time to go.” Gabrielle stirred, and her head appeared from the furs. Xena thought she looked like a kitten that had tumbled out of its mother’s basket for the first time: her hair stuck up in all directions and her wide eyes blinked up at Xena confusedly. Blue, like hers, she thought. Except not like hers at all. Gabrielle’s blue made her think of the sky and the sea, speckled with green like moss growing near a river. Gabrielle’s blue was a living blue. Her own blue, when she chanced upon a looking glass, made her think of steel and ice and dead things.
Gabrielle scrambled to her feet, still blinking in the bright sunlight. “Not much of an early riser, are you?” Xena asked, crossing her arms and sitting down on a fallen log to wait.
“No,” Gabrielle replied. “But I’m a fast learner. You keep your routine, I’ll get used to it!” She gesticulated while she talked, Xena observed. Hands that could be folding her bedroll or putting on her boots instead were wasted emphasizing the conversation. She pushed her frustration away as she watched Gabrielle pack her things with agonizing inefficiency.
“Do you have your own rations?” Xena asked as they were about to set off. The only thing worse than a sleepy and slow companion would be a sleepy, slow, and hungry one.
Gabrielle turned on her with a scowl. “What, does it look like my first time as an adventuress?”
“Well considering your use of the word ‘adventuress’...”
“Okay fine, it is my first time, you got me there. But yes I have my own food!” And she set to work rummaging in her pack, which slowed her step just enough that Argo nearly walked into her and shook her head with an annoyed snort as she rerouted around Gabrielle. Xena breathed a sigh of relief and exasperation. At least she wouldn’t have to feed her new tag-along. “So where to next?” Gabrielle asked. Xena wondered if she would ever get more than a couple minutes of peaceful silence anymore.
“You know, where I’m headed there’ll be trouble.”
“I know.”
“Then why would you want to go into that with me?” One last ditch attempt to allow Gabrielle to return to civilization before they really entered the wilderness.
“That’s what friends do. They stand by each other when there’s trouble.”
“All right. Friend.” She rolled the word around in her mouth, seeing how it felt. Not as foreign as she thought it might. When was the last time she had a friend? She mused. Flickers of faces and names passed through her mind. Akemi, Lao Ma, Borias, Autolycus, Anokin, Marcus… she’d had lovers, she’d had subordinates, she’d had people she might even consider companions. But a true friend? Not since Lyceus, probably. Her heart lurched as she thought of his tomb back home, the dust revealing how few visitors he had. Finally, finally, after all these years, her mother had forgiven her for leading him to his death. Xena didn’t think she’d ever forgive herself. Her descent into darkness had begun that day, when the one good, pure thing she had, her little brother, had been wrenched from her.
She looked at Gabrielle. There was something of Lyceus in her golden hair and wide eyes. Another good, pure thing she’d surely destroy. But there was something about her. A spark, a fire beneath that naivety. What was it she had said last night? “I’m not the little girl that my parents wanted me to be.” She wondered what Gabrielle’s parents had wanted for her. A husband and kids, no doubt. A safe and quiet home right next to theirs, surely. Yet here she was, talking circles around Xena, soft boots already scuffed from the worn path, sleeve already fraying from a stray bramble. And begging her to stay.
Hours later, as the sun passed its apex and began the slow arc to the West, Xena paused.
“Let’s stop for a rest here”
“I don’t need to rest!” Gabrielle insisted. She was holding her skirts above her knees to avoid dragging them in the mud. Her pack hung off one shoulder, and sweat drenched her forehead. There was a knot in her lower back from sleeping on the ground, and her soft boots were not very waterproof.
“It’s not just for resting. Look,” Xena pointed at the sun overhead. “It’s the hottest part of the day, this is the best time to sit for a while. We’ll be able to walk further when the air is cooler.”
“Huh. That’s smart,” Gabrielle said, squinting up at the sun and trudging through the tall grass after Xena towards a small copse of trees that provided merciful shade. Xena took a long pull from her waterskin and then offered some to Argo from her cupped hands. Argo flicked her ears gratefully. When she was done, Xena briefly pressed her forehead to the horse’s. Gabrielle watched the pair as she flopped onto the shaded ground. “You and her have a strong bond. I’ve never seen you so sweet with anyone else.”
“Gabrielle, you’ve known me for two days.” A ghost of a smile and an eyeroll accompanied this statement.
“Okay then, who else are you this sweet to?”
“No one. She’s the only person I like.”
“I knew it! Thank goodness I found you. If you’re going to be a hero, you’re going to have to learn to get along with other people.” She grinned at Xena, waiting for a snarky response. Xena just sighed and turned away to fuss with a saddlebag. “Okay I get it. Sometimes it’s nice to sit quietly for a while.” She tried it for a bit, drumming her fingertips on the cool grass and watching a bird rustle in a nearby bush. But she couldn’t help it. She was bursting with questions, with stories, with everything that Perdicas was always sick of hearing. “Were you the youngest ever warlord at - I don’t know - warlord school?”
There was a soft sound as Xena deliberately thumped her head against Argo’s flank.
102: Chariots of War
“Ale,” Gabrielle said confidently, when the man behind the bar looked expectantly at her. Warriors drank ale, surely. All around her there were burly men jostling each other, taking swigs from their tankards, swords at their belts. Gabrielle liked ale, but her mother had always scolded her and Lila off it, saying it was a drink for working men, not for nice young ladies. Well, she wasn’t a nice young lady anymore, was she? She turned as Xena entered the tavern, having finished hitching Argo outside. She hefted her tankard, ready for Xena to order one of her own so they could clang them manfully together before drinking.
“Wine,” Xena said smoothly to the barman. When it arrived, she clinked her cup delicately against Gabrielle’s mug before taking a sip. Gabrielle took a swig of her ale and wrinkled her nose.
“The ale is really bad here.” She leaned forward conspiratorially on her stool so the barman couldn’t hear her.
“First rule of being an…” Xena paused. “Adventuress. Learn which regions are known for their vineyards.” She toasted Gabrielle again and Gabrielle watched jealously as she appeared to savour her next sip. Xena raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Gabrielle?”
“Let me try some,” Gabrielle insisted, eyes sparkling. Xena relinquished her cup and Gabrielle carefully tasted the wine. It was rich and bold, but so smooth going down. It left a lingering taste in her mouth that made her feel like she had just been kissed. “Wow,” she breathed. “That’s really good.”
“Told you,” Xena said with a smirk, reaching to take the cup back. Gabrielle bit her lip.
“Want to swap?”
“No, I don’t,” said Xena slowly. “I ordered wine because I wanted wine.” She reached again. Gabrielle leaned back, curling the cup to her chest protectively.
“What if I want wine now?” She tried her best wide eyed innocent look. Xena hesitated. Gabrielle swore she looked briefly charmed by the game. Xena’s mouth opened and closed, eyes dancing between Gabrielle and the two drinks she clutched, clearly trying to decide if it would be worth the trouble to get her cup back.
“Fine.” The spell broke. Xena seized the mug of ale and took a gulp. She didn’t wrinkle her nose like Gabrielle, but she did pull her lips back from her teeth. It made her look like a hissing cat. Gabrielle giggled. “That is bad,” Xena said. “Did you ask about rooms?”
“Not yet,” said Gabrielle.
“Good,” came Xena’s reply. She looked around. “This place is a bit too rowdy for my liking. We’ll try the inn down the road when we’re done here. I bet a nice wholesome place like that will take a couple of your stories instead of dinars, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think? Travelling bards generally don’t pay for their lodgings. They bring in business with their…” she flapped her hand vaguely in Gabrielle’s direction. “Appeal.”
“I never thought about that,” Gabrielle’s eyes shone. “I mean, I’ve always loved to write and tell stories, but I didn’t think to do it in exchange for stuff. Do you really think people would pay to listen?”
“Probably. You’re good.” Xena took another swig of the weak ale.
“How do you know? You’ve never heard one of my stories!” Gabrielle switched from excited to apprehensive at lightning speed. Sometimes it was like travelling with a very temperamental horse.
“Try me, then.” Xena said. Gabrielle looked at her doubtfully.
“You want to hear a story?”
“Sure.”
Gabrielle fingered the stem of her wine cup thoughtfully and took a careful drink. The smooth, heady taste boosted her confidence. She looked directly into Xena’s intense, icy gaze. She wondered briefly if Xena ever looked softly on anything.
“Okay, let me tell you the one about the lovers and the oak trees.”
Xena sighed as she walked away from Darius’ homestead towards Gabrielle. He had welcomed her into his home, nursed her back to health for several days after her injury, and allowed her to spend time with his small children. It was the first time in a long time that someone did not automatically assume her a danger. It felt strange to be treated as a person, let alone as a hero. Something in her ached for that level of trust and closeness with other people, even as another part of her knew she was better off alone.
“Do you ever miss your family?” Xena didn’t know what made her say it like that. She certainly didn’t miss her mother or Toris. Those relationships were so raw they needed to be handled delicately. Extended time together would only make things worse. No, her time with Darius and his children had her longing for a family that had never quite existed. She thought about Borias, and about Solan. What would have happened if she’d set aside politics and ambition to raise her son? Could they have had something like Darius had? She remembered Borias’ rough mouth taking hers while they sat on horseback in the middle of a battlefield. Somehow she couldn’t picture the three of them on a sweet little homestead.
“Sometimes.” Gabrielle’s reply startled her out of her memories. “But not as much when I’m with you.” Xena waited for the laugh, for Gabrielle to give her a hearty nudge and walk away. It didn’t come. She was being completely genuine. Xena’s eyes searched Gabrielle’s face and she felt a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Could they really be family to each other? For years, the only family she’d had was Argo, who was loyal and affectionate, but not the best conversationalist. Perhaps she’d overcorrected by adding the chattiest person in all of Greece as her second family member. Gabrielle proved as much as she spent the rest of the travel day extrapolating on her newfound hatred of chariots.
“Hmm, maybe I’ll get one commissioned,” Xena couldn’t help teasing her. “We’d move a lot faster if Argo pulled us in a chariot.”
“Don’t you dare.” Gabrielle pointed a threatening finger at her. “I’m not ready to ride Argo again, let alone get back in a chariot. I can’t believe you made me do that!”
“Hey now, you said you wanted to come with me to where the ‘fun’ was.” Xena kept her voice light in the face of Gabrielle’s righteous indignation. “If I recall correctly, I asked you to wait at the farm for me.”
“Like I was gonna do that after you made me wait a day and a night at the inn. For all I know, you would have left me with those people and I’d become a farmer’s wife, which would have made my leaving home to avoid becoming a farmer’s wife totally pointless!” She was out of breath, stumbling over tree roots as she ranted. Xena put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“Gabrielle,” she said, “I’ve accepted by this point that I don’t think I’m going to shake you. Now come on, let’s head deeper until we find a good camping place.” And she walked away, leaving Gabrielle looking surprised, but not displeased, behind her. “Besides,” Xena tossed over her shoulder, “I hear you’re more likely to become a warlord’s wife these days.” She just knew Gabrielle had gone scarlet thinking Sphaerus, the warlord’s son who had joined the chariot chase. Xena smiled to herself. She heard the rustling of skirts as Gabrielle hustled after her.
“I was not going to marry him!”
“What?” Xena turned to her, making her eyes as wide and innocent as possible, trying to recreate Gabrielle’s expression that had lost Xena her wine just yesterday. “I thought he was your oak tree to intertwine with?” Gabrielle smacked the arm that wasn’t holding Argo’s reins. Xena saw it coming and steeled herself. Not that it was going to hurt, but because if she didn’t control her reflexes, she knew she would seize Gabrielle’s wrist and break it without thinking. She let the blow land and grinned as Gabrielle shook her stinging hand.
“Oh come on, Gabrielle.” Xena couldn’t help it, now that she was on a roll with teasing. “You were at that inn all night, and he didn’t even invite you back to his room?”
“For your information he wasn’t staying overnight so he had no room. And I certainly wasn’t going to invite him back to mine,” Gabrielle said haughtily. For a reason she couldn’t discern, Xena felt oddly pleased at this. She wasn’t sure why, she didn’t care what Gabrielle did or didn’t do with the men they stumbled across. Gabrielle didn’t seem interested in finding out if anything had happened between her and Darius. Not that anything had. Dressing up as his dead wife didn’t exactly get her going. They walked in silence for a time longer before Gabrielle finally spoke. “I kissed him though,” she said in a small voice.
“Gabrielle, you little minx. What would your parents say?” Xena was pulled from her reveries and was back in teasing mode in an instant. She tugged Argo over to a bit of flat ground and set about removing her tack. Gabrielle covered her face with her hands, but she was smiling.
“I’m sure they’d say I’d been corrupted by the big bad world and a big bad warlord,” she said, dropping her hands and shrugging off her pack.
“Is that me or him?” Xena set down Argo’s saddlebags and knelt to dig out a fire pit.
Gabrielle scoffed but didn’t answer. She picked carefully around the edge of the clearing, selecting dead branches and twigs for the fire. Xena was impressed. She hadn’t even asked her to do that. In only a couple of days, Gabrielle was starting to catch onto the camp routine. When she dumped an armful of wood next to Xena, Xena tugged on her skirt to pull her down to squat next to her.
“Why don’t you try?” She offered Gabrielle the flint and knife. Gabrielle took them enthusiastically. A line appeared between her brows as she concentrated. Xena tried to keep the laughter from her face and voice as she explained the process and scraped together a nest of kindling. “Go on,” she said when it was ready. Gabrielle’s frown of concentration deepened as she began to strike the flint with the knife, showering Xena’s little pile of twigs with sparks. Xena leant down and blew gently as they started to catch. After a few moments, real flames sprang up.
“Wow!” Gabrielle looked at her excitedly. “Did you see that? I did it!” This time Xena did laugh.
“You sure did. Now come on, start adding bigger twigs before it fizzles out.”
Gabrielle did as she was told while Xena reached for the saddlebags to see what kind of rations Darius had gifted her. Fruit and nuts, mostly. A couple slices of dense bread. She laid out the wrap and divided it into two portions. “Here.” She shoved one half towards Gabrielle, whose expression reflected the merry light of the fire.
“Oh Xena, no, I have my own-”
“Go on,” Xena cut her off. “Families share, right?”
103: Dreamworker
Xena watched Gabrielle sitting pensively by the lake. Gabrielle had almost killed someone today, almost been taken as a sacrifice into Morpheus’ dreamscape. That had to have shaken her up a little. Xena fished around inside her brain for comforting words but couldn’t find any. This was the first time on their adventures that Gabrielle had been in significant danger. Xena almost hadn’t gotten there in time. Surely Gabrielle must be terrified, must be second guessing this entire arrangement. Xena clenched her jaw. No, it was her, Xena, who was terrified. That moment in town when she had turned to Argo and found her riderless was unlike any type of fear she’d experienced in recent memory. She hadn’t realized how much she would have missed Gabrielle until that moment. But she wasn’t going to burden her with these things. Consciously adding a spring in her step and an airiness to her voice that she didn’t feel, Xena approached her.
“Ready to go?” Xena asked. Gabrielle looked up at her, eyes distant. Xena swallowed. Clearly her fake cheerfulness was not going to be reciprocated. She sighed and sat down. Gabrielle didn’t seem as concerned with her brush with death as she was with the almost-loss of her blood innocence. Xena wanted to comfort her but she didn’t know how. She tried to come up with something that Gabrielle might say. A clumsy metaphor about a rock being thrown in a lake soon had the smile returned to her face.
“For your first stab at wisdom you did all right.” Gabrielle grinned. Xena scoffed even as the compliment warmed her.
“I was just saying that for your benefit. You didn’t think I meant it, did you?” Sarcasm was always the best antidote to an uncomfortably intimate moment. Xena was lucky that Gabrielle went along with it.
“Not me, I wasn’t fooled.” Gabrielle brushed past her to take Argo’s reins. Xena turned back to the lake, looking at the calm spot where her metaphor-rock had splashed. Maybe Gabrielle was right, maybe things would be calm again.
Until she heard an indignant whinny behind her and turned just in time to see Argo snatch her own reins in her mouth and yank them out of Gabrielle’s hands. The mare then trotted over to Xena, shook her mane, and deposited the lead into her hand.
“Argo!” Gabrielle huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “You’re going to have to drop the attitude with me eventually.”
“You complained that she was too tall only a couple of days ago. Maybe she took offense.” Xena’s eyes twinkled.
Gabrielle’s mouth dropped open. “Well that’s not my fault. Some creatures are too tall!” Xena arched her eyebrow, smoldering down at Gabrielle. “Not you, obviously.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. Xena could tell Gabrielle wanted to give her a fond smack but was holding it back. She turned to look at the road ahead.
“Listen,” Xena said, seeing Gabrielle’s tired shoulders slump. “How about we turn back and stay at the inn tonight? I bet you anything these folk have a free room for the saviours of the town.” Gabrielle lit up at that.
As Xena left for the bathhouse, Gabrielle reclined on one of the two small beds in their room above the tavern. They’d been spoiled with hearty meat pies and plenty of ale. Gabrielle had bathed before dinner and was now practically giddy with the thought of a night in a warm dry room with a crackling fire and a real bed under her.
As the sky outside darkened, Gabrielle got up to light a candle, bringing it to her bedside along with her writing supplies. She began to scratch out her misadventure of ending up in Morpheus’s trials. She had made good headway on the tale by the time Xena returned, hair dripping all over the wood floor as she dug a sleeping shift out from her bags. Gabrielle tapped her quill gently on her chin while she watched Xena. She realized she was missing half the story.
“Xena?”
“Hmm?” Xena was shifting bags on the table, busying herself with something or other.
“What happened in your Dream Passage?” Gabrielle saw Xena’s shoulders stiffen slightly before she replied.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Well, because I’m writing the story of it. So I need to know what happened. It doesn’t make sense if it’s just about me in the trials and then you whisk in at the end.”
“Why not? That sounds like a fine story.” Xena finally set aside her puttering and moved to her own bed, sitting slowly onto it. She didn’t meet Gabrielle’s eyes.
“Sure it’s fine, but I want my stories to be good. Why won’t you tell me?”
“Because it doesn’t matter.” Gabrielle thought she heard gritted teeth in the words. Uncomfortable with attention as always, Xena.
“Of course it matters. Now tell me. Did you have to fight, like I did? Were there other people there? What did the space look like?”
“Gabrielle…” There was definitely some warning in the way she said her name, but Gabrielle was determined to write the thing properly.
“What did you see when you first arrived? Did you have a dream guide come to you?”
“Gabrielle, ENOUGH!” Xena snapped. It was the first time she had raised her voice towards her. The icy sting of the words made Gabrielle feel like she’d been slapped. “My life isn’t some fodder for you to write your ridiculous stories with!” Xena hissed at her. Gabrielle’s face fell.
“Oh,” came her very small, quiet reply. Ridiculous. The word hurt, but the venom in Xena’s snarl hurt more. “Okay.” She didn’t meet Xena’s eyes as she felt tears well in her own. She shoved aside her writing things, blew out the candle next to her, and rolled away. The gesture was not as dramatic as she wanted, since the low crackling fire still filled the room with a dim, flickering light. Xena was left sitting on her bed, staring at Gabrielle’s back as the smoke from the candle curled between them.
“Gabrielle, wait,” Xena said. She’d regretted the words as soon as she’d said them. They were too harsh, and too quick to come. Her encounter with her shadow self in the dream passage had shaken her. Gabrielle didn’t need to know how close to the surface that darkness always was, and she didn’t know how to explain it. Gabrielle did not turn back over. “I’m sorry,” Xena said quietly, fiddling with her hands in her lap. “Your stories aren’t ridiculous. I shouldn’t have said that.” She waited. Still nothing. She sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m not good at talking. I don’t have a gift with words, like you do, so I don’t know what to say to make it right. I like that you write down our adventures, I really do. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
Gabrielle slowly rolled over. Xena looked up and met those wide, clear eyes. “Do me one favour, Xena?” she asked.
“Of course,” Xena let out her held breath, relieved.
“Do something interesting tomorrow so this isn’t all I have to write about.” Gabrielle offered her a small smile. Xena smiled back.
“Promise.”
104: Cradle of Hope
The sound of the thunder outside the cave was barely preceded by a flash of lightning each time. The storm must have been right above them, Gabrielle thought. At least it was dry here, and the baby had stopped crying. She looked over at him, cradled in Pandora’s arms. He slept soundly, and Pandora herself looked like she was drifting off, eyes closed and back resting against the rock wall behind her.
“Cloth,” Xena said, holding out a hand. Gabrielle fumbled amongst the supplies at her feet, having upended Xena’s saddlebag onto the cave ground. When she extricated the cloth and handed it to her, Xena took it and began polishing down her chakram.
“Tell me again why you needed me for this?” Gabrielle asked. Xena had instructed her to hand over the baby so she could provide assistance, but so far all that assistance had entailed was handing Xena things when she asked for them.
“I didn’t,” Xena said shortly. She nodded at the dozing Pandora. “She did.” Gabrielle turned to look at Pandora. She seemed relaxed, the crease between her brows was gone for the first time all day.
“How did you know?” Gabrielle asked. Xena shrugged.
“Some people are just natural mothers,” Xena replied.
“Are you?” Gabrielle asked. Xena’s shoulders stiffened immediately. Gabrielle took the warning sign to heart and didn’t wait for a reply. “I don’t think I am, honestly. Perdicas always talked about having kids and instead of giving me the warm and fuzzies, it made me want to run away. I think I could care for a child, sure, I mean look at Gabriel, he’s so cute you just want to give him everything! But giving birth? I don’t think so.” She waited for Xena to say something. She didn’t, so Gabrielle carried on. “Lila though, she always wanted kids. She said she wanted four! Can you imagine?”
“Mmm,” Xena said absentmindedly. Gabrielle sighed. Sometimes she felt like she was carrying a conversation by herself. More than sometimes, if she was being honest. “Whetstone,” Xena said next, tossing the cloth back towards Gabrielle. Gabrielle didn’t catch it, and it flopped pathetically to the floor. She shifted through the pile of items at her feet and passed Xena the whetstone.
“You know,” she said, as Xena began carefully sharpening the curves of the chakram, “if you don’t feel like talking, you could just say that.”
“All right,” Xena drawled. “I don’t feel like talking.” Gabrielle caught the slight lilt of humour in her voice and rolled her eyes.
“Ha ha, warrior princess. Where did you get that name, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t pick it.” Xena blew some imaginary dust off her chakram and held it to the light to examine the newly sharpened edge.
“Why not warrior queen? I mean, warrior princess insinuates that you’re to inherit something, and so there’s someone reigning above you.” Gabrielle bit her tongue as Xena shot her a dirty look.
“There’s no one reigning above me,” she said coldly, but a light was dancing in those blue, blue eyes.
“Don’t I believe that,” Gabrielle said.
“I can’t believe you threw the baby to me!” Gabrielle said shrilly as they walked away from King Gregor’s castle.
“I can’t believe you threw the baby to me!” Xena shot back. “I was fighting!”
“Well I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell Pandora that the box was empty!”
“Well I can’t believe you knocked the box open in the first place!”
“Okay, okay,” Gabrielle conceded. “I guess we’re probably even. We did many unbelievable things today.” They were approaching the city limits, and Xena raised her fingers to her mouth, giving a short, sharp whistle.
A few moments later, the soft thud of hooves reached their ears, and Argo came clattering up the path. She was still in full tack, and gave Xena a reproachful look for not relieving her of her burdens before turning her loose in the forest.
“I know,” Xena said softly, scratching Argo’s forehead. “I’m sorry, there wasn’t time. How about tonight I take all your gear off and we find a nice patch of mud for you to wallow in?”
Gabrielle snorted. “You two have fun with that. I’ll be curled up by the fire composing a story about our new future king.”
“And what will you write?” Xena asked, twinkling down at her. “Today I threw that future king into the arms of a warrior who was very busy and also holding a sword?”
“Stop!” Gabrielle said, though she was laughing. She swatted at Xena’s arm, and Xena easily avoided it. She then passed Argo’s reins from one hand to the other, and pulled Argo forward so she was walking between them.
“Take it up with Argo if you want to scrap,” she said. Gabrielle looked into the large, brown eye that was staring her down. She wasn’t sure horses knew how to smirk and raise an eyebrow, but if they did, she swore it was happening.
“Not fair,” she said. “Two against one.”
They walked in companionable silence for a time. Gabrielle mapped the events of the day out in her head, thinking of how to present it as a story. She could already see the bits and pieces fitting together as she wove the narrative in her mind, itching to write it down. Sometimes it helped though, to have to memorize it first. When she performed in taverns she never wanted to read from a scroll. An excellent bard has an excellent memory, she was sure of it. All her stories should be on the tip of her tongue at a moment’s notice. That was the kind of expert storyteller she wanted to be.
As a child, she’d had no problem parroting all the classic tales to the other children. Sometimes she only needed to hear one once before she could recite it for a group. Composing her own pieces was harder work though. Every word needed to be planned and penned carefully. Every gesture, every lilt of her voice and adjustment to her volume had to be precise. It was difficult to read her scrolls and try to imagine how it would sound aloud. That night after they had set up camp, she decided to brave what she anticipated to be the most critical audience she’d ever known.
“Xena?” she asked carefully. Xena was across the fire from her, seated on her bedroll with her long legs stretched in front of her. One of her feet was bare, and her boot was in her lap while she fussed with a needle and thread to patch a hole in the leather.
“Mmm?”
“Can I practice a story for you?”
“Mmm.” She was focused on her task, squinting in the dancing firelight. Gabrielle took that as a yes.
“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “I sing of Prince Gabriel, the infant heir of -” She cut herself off. “Wait a second. I can’t reveal that he’s the prince until the end.” She furrowed her brow for a moment, scanning over the half-completed scroll. “Then I suppose I sing of Pandora, guardian of the -” She stopped again. “It’s not really a story about Pandora’s Box though is it? I wouldn’t want it getting confused with the classic -”
“Gabrielle,” Xena interrupted her musings. Gabrielle looked up. Xena had paused from her mending and caught her gaze from across the fire. “You’re overthinking it. Just…relax, consider the story and…tell it.” Gabrielle scowled. She opened her mouth to argue, but Xena had already turned back to her boot. She took a deep breath instead.
“Alright. No thinking. Just telling. I sing of King Gregor…” And to her surprise, she found that she could put down her parchment entirely. When she wasn’t worrying about the words or the composition of the story, it all just seemed to flow. She gazed sightlessly into the fire, watching the tale unravel before her eyes. The grief of a king, the innocence of a child, the beauty of hope, all the morals melded together and wrapped around each other as she spun her story. She felt her hands gesture, her eyes widen, and her voice pitch up and down as her body moved with the flow of her words. It felt like dancing and writing music at the same time. Finally, she finished with a grand flourish of her hands and let them drop to her lap. The gently crackling fire was the only sound.
Gabrielle looked across the fire at Xena. Xena’s boot was on the ground next to her, the hole only half sewn. She was gazing raptly at Gabrielle, as if she had been swept away by the tale that she herself had lived only a few hours prior. Gabrielle grinned sheepishly. “How was that? Good, huh?” Xena blinked. She seemed to come out of a reverie. She ran a hand through her hair and collected her discarded project.
“Yeah,” she said gruffly, quickly thrusting the needle into leather.
105: The Path Not Taken
Xena’s voice was rougher than it used to be. She hadn’t sung in quite some time, but she knew that she had to. Marcus was a friend, he was a lover, and he was loyal. He deserved to be honoured as such. The familiar melody flowed as she watched the flames consume him. She felt like something else was being reduced to ash, something inside her. Maybe her hope for the future, maybe her ability to love? She’d forsaken it before with interesting results, it didn’t seem so ridiculous for it to happen again now. Marcus was maybe the only person she could think of that she might have been able to stand being around for the rest of her life. He didn’t intrigue her like Alti or set her aflame like Borias, but he was steady and comforting, the type of man who would have been a suitable companion. Her mother had even met him once, she mused, and hadn’t had any complaints. And now his soul spiraled above her with the smoke, her last chance at some kind of a traditional love.
It was probably for the best, she decided. People that got close to her died, they usually did. Often by her own hand, always by her own fault. Though she felt herself firmly set on a new path, her number of enemies did not seem to have dwindled. If anything, more people wanted her dead now. She couldn’t decide how she felt about that.
A warm, gentle hand touched her arm as the last note quivered from her throat. She could feel Gabrielle’s sweet face upon her, but she didn’t turn to look.
“I wish I could have met him. I’m sorry,” Gabrielle said softly. Xena watched the scene as if she were outside her body, eyes glazed over and face emotionless.
“He was my friend,” she heard herself say flatly.
“To be remembered like that is a good thing,” Gabrielle said earnestly.
“My friend,” Xena heard herself say again. The last one I’ll ever love. She wasn’t going to let anyone else into her heart now. Keep everyone safe. “My friend.”
The mood in the camp that night was dour. Instead of her usual routine chores, Xena had simply lit a fire for Gabrielle, spread her furs on the ground, and rolled over silently. Gabrielle watched her from her side of the flames. Xena hadn’t told her much about Marcus, but clearly this loss had cut her deep.
Gabrielle’s mind swirled with questions as she sat crosslegged on her bedroll, quill in hand. She thought of the haunting funeral dirge Xena had sung before the pyre, which had tugged at her heart. She wondered what language it was in. Had Xena composed it herself? Where had she learned it? How long had she known Marcus? Had he served in her army? Had they been lovers? She knew now was not the time to ask these questions. She stared at Xena’s back. Her shoulders were tense: she clearly wasn’t asleep. Gabrielle shifted restlessly. Even if it wasn’t the time for questions, she still couldn’t stand the heavy silence. She needed to say something.
“I’m sorry, Xena. He must have been a very brave man, to take an arrow for someone he barely knew. He saved Jana’s life even though he had just met her. That’s really something amazing. And now Jana and Agranon can be together, and their families can move forward in peace. It takes a pretty special person to bring about all that.” There was a long silence. Gabrielle was certain Xena was ignoring her. She sighed and lay down, looking up at the stars. She wondered if there was a new one up there tonight for Marcus.
“He was a pretty special person,” Xena said at last. She was so quiet, Gabrielle almost didn’t hear her over the whisper of the fire. “And now he’s gone.” There was bitter anger in her voice. Gabrielle used the line her mother always used when someone had died.
“He’ll never be truly gone, he’s in the Elysian Fields now-”
“No he’s not.” Xena cut her off sharply.
“What do you mean? He was a good person,” Gabrielle ventured tentatively. She rolled to look at Xena. She still had her back to Gabrielle.
“No he wasn’t.” Xena’s voice was muffled, as if she had her hands over her face. She took a deep breath and rolled to face Gabrielle across the campsite. “He did despicable things. Just like me. Some people can’t be redeemed by a few good acts.”
Oh. So this wasn’t just about Marcus. “I think anyone can be redeemed,” she said stubbornly. She could practically hear Xena’s eyeroll in the dark. “I’m being serious,” she continued earnestly. “As long as you - someone - tries to do good things, to help people, the past is in the past. Even the smallest acts can cause ripple effects. Marcus saved Jana, Jana married Agranon, and who knows what acts of good they’ll do with their life together. Or maybe their child will grow up to be a hero and save hundreds! That could all be tracked back to Marcus’s choice.”
There was another long silence. Then, “I don’t think it works that way.” Xena looked contemplative. Gabrielle watched the fire flickering in her eyes before she offered Xena a small smile.
“That’s okay. I do.”