Disclaimer: This is a short piece of fiction based on the characters from Xena; Warrior Princess. Being the rightful property of Universal Studios, it is not my intention to infringe on related copyright laws or to make any profit. I also want to tell you right up front that I can't spell for dinars. This story would appear a whole lot more Greek than intended if it wasn't for the skills of my beta reader at large, Moon Shadow. Take a bow MS.

Warning 1: TPoS comes under the definition of Alternative fan fiction, as such it places Xena in a sexual situation with another woman. That situation involves descriptions of consensual S/m. If the idea of one woman bringing another pleasure in this fashion is something you just can't relate to, feel free to leave through the closest exit.

Warning 2: A rather bloody battle is also mentioned, its not graphic, but if you don't like the thought of people losing their heads, turn and run.

The Price of Silence

© Dark Angel.

darkangelxena@hotmail.com

If it hadn't been for the oversized lantern with the piece of red cloth blowing like a streamer from it's base, she may have walked right past the building. From where she stood, business appeared slow doing nothing to improve her confidence. There had been only one very drunk merchant decked out in his Solstice best enter since she taken up watch across the street. And nobody, not a soul had come out.

Xena nudged stray tendrils of hair from her eyes and shifted her weight uneasily. It had taken her longer than she'd counted on to find the place, coming about the actual location only after offering another dinar for an already paid for bath and room. The inn keeper seemed painfully slow to catch her drift, but then again, she hadn't been all that clear in what she was asking.

Suppressing a groan from the sentient prodding in her gut, she pushed off from the wall, her boots falling into a determined tread as she moved out of the shadows and climbed the steps. The door, not surprisingly was left ajar and admitted her with little effort. Smells of smoke, cheap whiskey and sweat permeated her nostrils as she closed the portal, forcing her to open her mouth to breathe.

She'd left her doubts out in the street she reminded herself coughing from the taste of stale oxygen. Willing her feet closer to the first piece of furniture she saw, she hesitated briefly, unlatching a small pouch from her belt and tipping it and it's contents face down on the counter.

"How much?" Asked Xena, meeting the scowling features of a hefty woman who appeared to be handling arrivals.

The woman eyed her coolly, studying the array of weapons strapped ready to the stranger's clothes.

"You'll need to check them here," she said abruptly.

The warrior wasn't in the habit of surrendering her arms to just anyone. But the woman's expression didn't alter, only cementing it seemed as she held Xena's arctic glare to her own. Clearly it was a matter of who would thaw first but sweat trickled down both armpits in the time it took Xena to realize there weren't going to be any negotiations here. Silently she lifted her chakram from it's hook and drew her blade, handing them over without attempt to argue.

"Depends on who and what you want." The woman offered apathetically.

Xena paused, unsure of what she had actually meant, then following the protruding chin over her shoulder. She turned half way around, slowly surveying the assortment of available harlots adorning the establishment walls. There was perhaps a dozen of varying shapes and coloring, all dressed scantily and ranging in age from old enough to be her mother to young enough to get her arrested. Self consciously she bit her lip, stubbing her boot at an invisible knot in the floor boards.

The woman at the counter grunted something about not having all night. So pulling on her best 'barely interested guise, she willed herself steady as eyes discreetly searched for what she'd come looking for. A slip of a girl, fair skinned with sun bleached locks came into view - followed closely by a resounding pang of guilt. Xena forced her eyes to move on, grimacing at the thought while realizing no one, including the young whore, was particularly interested in a stranger trying to make her pick.

Cynically she wandered what it would be like to be sitting in the near dark, eying the travelers as they checked their dignity with their weapons. But she knew it was too late for that too. Two hirsute looking soldiers, fresh from battle by the smell of them, sidled past her. Making their choices quickly and thundering off to collect the woman they'd jointly acquired. Another grunt of impatience sprouted from behind her.

"How about the little blonde in the far corner." Xena said, desire defeating her before sense could chose another.

"She's new, not seen a whole lot of business." The woman told her. "You can have her and a bath for 5 dinar."

"I've already had a bath." Xena muttered testily, thinking the price sounded steep.

Just how she was going to explain the sudden drop in funds to Gabrielle she didn't know. The room, earlier wash and the extra cost to find the damn place had already set her back five dinar. It wasn't that she didn't have the money, but ten less dinar was a lot harder to explain than five. She thought about just scooping the healthy pile of coins back up off the counter and walking straight out of there. But she knew she couldn't.

The ache wouldn't let her.

She had left Gabrielle a days ride away, safely installed as short help while she'd aided a neighboring village against a would-be Warlord trying to move into the territory. Negotiations hadn't turned out the way anyone would have liked and too many soldiers on both sides had gone Hades that morning.

She reached mindfully to the latest addition to her already scared frame. She had been distracted for no more than a breath, a weight against her boots slowing what she knew to be life determining movements. She'd cast her sight downward to clear the snag and found the boy she'd shared breakfast with - no more than Gabrielle's age laying almost decapitated at her feet. She'd stared at him longer than was wise, numb as the blade dragged across her flesh, her own blood spilling on to his sodden tunic like someone urinating on his grave. It shouldn't have bothered her, but his morning banter had reminded her so much of her own young bard, perhaps too - a little of Lyceus.

Bitter tears stung on her grime covered face as men seem to come from every possible angle, swarming. She'd showed none a hint of mercy as they swung at her, slicing swift and deadly at whoever foolishly approached her circle around the fallen boy. Blood gushed on to the battle field, she alone killing more than half her army's share. She covered herself in it, had stood in it, caring not that she stunk of the remains until long after they had ridden home and named themselves victorious.

She couldn't care. Her heart had beat with the might of ten and, for the first time since she'd ended her own murderous reign, the beast within her - locked away and forgotten, clawed and howled till denial

- was also checking itself at the door....

"So what will it be?" The woman demanded impervious to Xena's thoughts. "Every girl comes with a bath, its up to you whether ya use the water or not."

Xena gritted her teeth under the pressure. "Her," she replied nodding at the blonde she'd already pointed out. "Two candle marks."

The woman reached down and pulled up a clean towel, depositing it next to the emptied money pouch.

"Two candle marks will cost you double," she said.

Xena's eyebrows knitted. She could buy a new saddle for that kind of money.

"Double?" she repeated appalled.

"Double," the woman echoed.

"Last room on the left," she signaled eying up the hall to Xena's right. "You want anything out of the ordinary, you negotiate it with your purchase. She'll tell ya the prices."

Xena took a deep breath exhaling louder than she'd wanted. Chewing her lip she counted out ten dinar quickly and shoved them forward on the surface. A swift drag of her uninjured arm pulled the remaining coins back into her pouch before she picked up the towel and wordlessly strode off towards the girl.

Two women about her age looked mildly disappointed when she passed them by.

She stopped, finally looking down at delicate fingers resting in a skirt that hid very little. She was 18 summers at best with uncanny features that almost dared Xena back to any one of the other whores sitting in wait. The girl looked up, sensing the scrutiny from the knee high boots that had stopped suddenly and smiled, apparently pleased at what she saw. Without a word, she rose and followed the customer down the short hall way.

The door opened amidst encouraging instructions for the stranger to make herself at home.

The arrangements were simple; a bed, a wash tub, a small table with a basket of fragrances and what looked liked home made manacles. The room was surprising well lit compared to the foyer Xena decided, realizing she hadn't known what to expect.

'Well,' she sighed. 'There's a first time for everything.' Before she could get her bearings, she realized the girl had walked straight over to the bed and was standing perfectly postured, apparently waiting for her to approach her.

Xena looked everywhere except in the girl's direction, feeling inordinately awkward under the gentle tilt of a friendly smile. She suddenly remembered the towel strung over her shoulder and decided she'd look less out of place in the whole process by finding a place to put it. The room hadn't changed from the first swift glance she thought trying to lightening her heart as she looked around. Finally she gave up worrying about appearances and dropped the thin piece of cloth over the basket full of surprises on the table before shoving her hands deep into her trouser pockets for good measure.

"Are you nervous, soldier?" the girl whispered, unperturbed, coming to press against her. Lightly painted lips brushed across polished armor. Xena figured the soldier comment hailed from the borrowed uniform she wore instead of her usual leathers. She let it and the question about her nervousness slide, allowing the girl's lips to continue working their way up her shoulders and neck.

When the girl moved her hands over Xena's breast shield, she took her fully in her arms, smothering her sense of guilt as she returned the smoldering kisses. Gladly she lost herself in the sensations, absorbed herself in the touch and taste. Deepening her kiss and strengthening the caresses, she let the the licentious creature uncoil. It didn't take long for the gentle strokes to become harsh and demanding - for her mouth to become an ardent and powerful dictator of their passion.

The girl pulled away, suddenly wide eyed but managing to maintain what Xena deemed her 'professional' smile.

"Rough will cost you quite a bit more, my beautiful soldier." She said, rubbing the mark Xena had left on her neck.

Xena looked at the woman child before her. The fire, relit in the morning's battle was threatening to erupt. Rough was an understatement, she chuckled ruefully. If it had been as simple as just needing sex, she would have tried a little harder with the inn keeper's daughter where she'd rented her room. Or maybe even turned Argo around and ridden all night to return to Gabrielle, knowing she would have stopped somewhere along the way to release the need herself.

And if she'd been alone, she might have let the tears forcing passage behind her eyes spill through. Gabrielle wasn't an option and she knew it. The bard would have held her on her return to be sure. She would have cleaned and re-bandaged the wound. She may have even massaged the stiff muscles till all the knots were gone. But she wouldn't have offered and Xena certainly wouldn't have asked her to quench the undeniable pressure vulcanizing in her groin.

Somewhere in their short time together she had fallen in love with the young girl from Poteidia. Somewhere along the way, she sensed Gabrielle had fallen in love with her too. But they hadn't got to the point of saying the words yet and Xena believed after witnessing Gabrielle's near death at Thessaly that even if Gabrielle did say the words, she would have to refute them. She wasn't a warlord any longer, but she still killed people, no matter the change in reasoning. Danger still seemed to find her in every direction that she turned. She wasn't ever going to safe to be with and she knew eventually she would either force Gabrielle back to her family or get her killed. She couldn't let her love her and she wouldn't let herself love Gabrielle.

'So here I am,' Xena mused. 'Once destroyer of nations, defiler of countless paying for a little blood letting of her own.' She would find a way to explain the money, she decided, strengthening her stance. She had come to the one place she always said she wouldn't. She was here for a reason and she knew the reason wasn't going to just go away.

"How much more?" The low, throaty voice asked.

The girl smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Depends."

Xena stepped forward, slowly unbuttoning her trousers enough to show the straps of a harness and phallus base. The girl's gaze wandered over the hands fumbling to expose this hidden desire and then to the face of their owner. She smiled lightly again starting to remove her clothes.

"Another five," she offered, answering the unsolicited question.

"And if you're on your knees?" Xena breathed moving closer, confidence increasing with her need. "......and I put it any place I want?"

The girl didn't answer but her smile stayed fixed. She stripped away the last of her undergarments, rising briefly to fold the bed coverings back. Then, sitting again, her legs slightly parted this time, she patted the space next to her for Xena to sit.

"That would be yet another five dinar, handsome one." She murmured gently as she unbuckled the cuirass from around the warrior's ribs and shoulders. Xena let her remove it and the breast shield, helping somewhat with the wrist guards and boots. But she stopped the smaller hands at completely removing the open vest, kissing her possessively again.

"And if I want to use my belt on you first?" Xena growled deep into the girl's mouth. "If I want to see the strokes color your skin?"

Young fingers laced themselves into the dark hair as she held her soldier, kissing her back with equal incentive. Xena's own fingers worked their way up and over full breasts, squeezing the nipples till they were erect. The girl winced but didn't pull away. She pressed her back, downward, a thigh forcing itself between and parting her legs.

"If I want to see you hold yourself bare and welcome the strikes?"

The girl's heart hammered. Mechanics took over as she opened her mouth wider, accepting the thick searching tongue as it repeatedly thrust down her throat. Against her mound she could feel the unyielding length that had only been partially displayed to her. The stranger continued to ground into her and she allowed herself to be driven where ever it took her. Silently she considered the list of requests from the woman, calculating how much she would charge for the service.

It took but a moment to tally it all up and she stilled the stranger's hips, stopping foreplay becoming pleasuring before final payment was set. When Xena finally pulled away, easing up just a little, her lips were still open almost salivating. Her head was lowered and her hair enveloped their upper bodies like a kind of curtain, blocking out some of the room's light. The girl thought she risked losing herself in the richness of color she saw. They were the most beautiful eyes she could ever remember seeing on a man or a woman. But there was something else, something barely hidden, just waiting to take hold and darken the vision.

"Then you would need to place a total of 20 dinar by my bed, kind stranger." She whispered, knowing it was anything but kindness this woman was paying for.

Xena pushed up, growling out to the sweet torment. She knew if she stayed astride of her much longer she would take her hard and fast. There was no doubt that she wanted it hard - but fast, spent in a matter of moments, was not what she was parting with 30 dinar for. The need had been left unattended for too long, a quick fuck wouldn't do it, wouldn't extinguish the blaze. Moving completely off the girl she reached for the pouch still fastened on her belt.

The girl rose realizing her price had been accepted without question or debate. She walked to the foot of the bed, watching as the coins were counted out and placed on the table beside it. Then the stranger stood up too, drawing buckled leather through the loops on her uniform till the belt lay across her upturned palms. What catches still keeping her trousers up were released and she let the garment fall in a heap around her ankles. She stepped out of them, using her foot to brush them aside. All that remained was the borrowed army vest made for a larger build. It hung long on her muscles thighs, covering her buttocks but not enough to completely hide the leather organ strung at her crotch.

The girl watched her stretch proudly in her near nakedness, reaching for an invisible point as her full unquestioning dark power unraveled. She looked hastily to the dinars piled by her bed reminding herself of her place. The stranger had called something deep within her to the surface, finally letting it breathe in the crisp night air. She could almost swear she heard it sigh. Gone was the nervous twitch, gone were the beautiful blue eyes. The animal was waking and she, the young whore, was meant to feed it.

Knowingly, the girl parted her legs and lent forward, grasping each side of the bed end until her knuckles whitened.

She had moved behind her, standing paused while she soaked up the vision of the girl's own anticipation glistening against her inner thigh - distracted only by her own hand stroking the length of leather at her groin, wetness coating the base. She pushed into herself, releasing a clamor feral and raw. Gone was any hint of self-consciousness, gone was the morning's battle and the boy, gone too, the ever present thoughts of her bard.

"How many can you take?" Came the low pitched tones of this new stranger.

The girl raised her head slightly, angling her gaze on the very tip of the bed head.

"As many as you wish." she replied, composing herself against the impending strikes.

And as the leather sung above her, she whispered.

"I am yours."

The End

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