Email: Serenity_Sea@Yahoo.com
Standard disclaimer: Universal owns Xena: Warrior Princess, and all her cool pals. As much as I wish that I did, I don’t.
Synopses: What if, in the first episode of Xena, ‘Sins of the Past,’ Xena cared less about being good and her recent village-saving, and was fed up with Amphipolis’s less than welcome response to her homecoming? What if Gabrielle tried to save her, but it was too late.
I’m warning you, this is a dark-Xena fic. She’s not good here. I’m sick of the goodness. Just hook up with Ares, already, ya know??!
Only for him
By Serenity Sea
“I don’t allow swords in my tavern." Cyrene had said coldly, publicly rebuking her daughter.
The crowd pressured her mother into it. After they left, she’d come back to get her sword—after all, she wasn’t not going to use a sword just because her mother disapproved.
This caused a small laugh to escape her lips—a harsh sound—not at all what one would classify as a joyful sound.
Like her mother would approve of any of the things she’d recently done.
When she finally got a chance to talk, without the annoying villagers and peasants—to try and explain, she could see her mother was warming to her.
Her rejection to her past lifestyle wasn’t all in vain.
And then, just when she’d gotten her mother softened up, perhaps on their first way to reconciliation, Draco ruined it.
How she would love to simply kill the man. Who needed him anyway? And what was with the chicken-hat on his head, anyway?
***
There was only one person who approved of her darkness. One person who embraced her dark side and welcomed the scores of bloodshed. It had actually become a game between them—to see who killed more people first.
Granted, he wasn't allowed to use any powers, simply his sword, and handpicked army of 25 men, so it had been a fairer fight than usual. And in the end, believe it or not, it was a tie. So the bets were called off.
And as they were sparring for what she knew was going to be her last time for a long time, she saw the blood-lust in his eyes, that she knew had to be reflected in her won and was instantly repulsed.
It was ok for him to be like that, after all, that was his job—but there was no reason for her to become his right-hand killing machine. After all, she was a person, she had feelings as well.
And he’d done everything he could so far to break her up. To ruin her plans for reforming.
Why, just after she’d buried her Chakram and sword, breastplate and armor, one of Draco’s head honcho’s had come and tried to destroy a small village. Poteidaia, was it?
That was where that annoying little blonde girl had tried to follow her and be ‘just like Xena.’
The harsh laugh came again. If that innocent little girl really knew what her life had been like, she’d get nightmares in hell.
So why fight it anymore? Why resist? The villagers hated her. Her mother hated her. Who knew where her father was, and even if she had one.
Even the village of Poteidaia, small though it was, had heard of the Destroyer of the Nations: Xena.
‘Destroyer of the Nations.’ It actually had a nice ring to it.
***
The visit to her brother’s grave had been the last straw.
She’d dealt with the rumors, with the nasty remarks, even tolerated when they threw rocks at her. In fact, had they been strong enough, Xena doubted that nothing short of a boulder would have been thrown.
But to ban from her brother’s grave…
If anything, his death was the reason she’d become who she’d become. Wounded and scarred for life, she had no other choice but to move on.
She was sure her neighbors had been more than decently shocked when they saw the look in her eyes as she began to slay the enemy. And soon, the enemy wasn’t enough.
Against her inner will, she began to slay the innocent.
And that was where it had all began.
***
Cyrene knew her own daughter well, for the many years she’d been missing and she knew that Xena would go to Lyceus’s tomb.
She also knew that Xena had no right to be there, after betraying her for the last time. So she watched as her fellow villagers threw stones at her own flesh and blood, and did absolutely nothing.
Well, except for demanding to have guards posted outside her son’s monument.
***
So Xena, bruised and bloodied, trudged along until she came to her brother’s memorial. There were two guards out side the main entrance.
“Fools.’ She murmured softly and leapt in front of them.
The look on the guards’ faces was classic. She almost wished she could replay the entire rotten day again so that she could see their faces once more.
“You know, it’s a shame you have to die today. It’s actually a nice day, the blue skies and everything." She paused, giving them time to plead their last pleas. Then, a malicious grin came over her face. “Of course, there never was a bad day to die."
s She put her lovely trademark pinch on them, and, instead of doing what she usually did, for she simply did not care, left them there to die.
“Sorry boys. I have other business to attend to. Hey! Maybe, if you’re lucky, someone will find your body before the vultures do, an you’ll get a proper burial." Her voice was surprisingly cheerful.
Quietly, she stepped inside the monument, and welcomed the blissful darkness.
***
The visit to Lyceus’s tomb hadn’t been all that enlightening.
In fact, aside from the fresh kill, it was probably a waste.
So she wasn’t surprised to find both Draco and the unarmed, but very scared villagers of Amphipolis waiting for her.
“Xena! You must save us! Protect us from this evil man!" A loud villager with a teal-and yellow colored turban begged her.
Draco had seen the look on her face when she came in and knew, that, if there was to be any saving done today, it would be by his hand, and certainly not Xena’s.
“Sorry boys, I’ve been scorned one too many times. But since Draco, here, is my close friend in the career of bloodshed, maybe he’ll spare the children. That is, if you ask nicely." Without so much as a backward glance toward the villagers, she stalked off to find Argo—and a suitable place where she could summon him.
***
The nearest temple was miles away. And even though she was in top shape, she wasn't stable enough emotionally to physically ride.
So, since she was his chosen; and he, her god, she summoned him for help.
“ARES!"
Her cry reached a certain God of War on Olympus, who had been watching her day’s events with sympathy.
He didn’t hesitate to answer.
Materializing in a cerulean flash, Ares appeared before her.
“How can I be of service, my dear?" His tone was smooth and belied the understanding he felt for her deep in his heart.
She simply looked at him. “They’re horrible. All of them. I want them all killed. And Draco—hah! I’ll take him down myself!"
He nodded gently and grinned that wicked grin of his. “Of course. They should pay for betraying the Warrior Princess. Is there anything else you want me to take care of?" He asked, sensing her vulnerability that she always tried to cover up with a massacre or two.
“What about me?"
***
And take care of her, he did. The finest care a leather-clad God could muster.
And so, the walls around her heart became thicker, and more impenetrable, until one day, Ares was the only one allowed to see her cry.
No matter how deep the wound, or how badly rejection hurt, she never let them see her cry.
Only Ares.
For only he could break into her heart, and set her free.
And he was only one with the key to her heart.
And she let him see into her darkest places.
And let him heal her wounds.
And she loved him a way she never thought possible, for this was far deeper than their past relationship.
Neither of them had asked to be the way they were; they just… were.
Companions they were, lovers they were, champions they were.
And when it came time for her to drink the ambrosia, she did.
Only for him.
Please e-mail the author of this story with your comments. serenity_sea@yahoo.com