Betrayal

How insecure are the doors
In the kingdom of Trust
For those who trust only in locks!
And so it's inevitable –
The light of our tenderness
Is extinguished by
The weight of somebody's hand.

Evgeny Klyachkin, "A Wet Waltz"

Despite its name, Moesia Superior had little to recommend it. By reputation it was a land of barbarian tribes that had no appreciation of Latin culture and possessed an unhealthy contempt for authority. Few Romans came this way, preferring the warmer climate and richer pickings of the civilised southern provinces. The few who did come were fugitives, exiles – and now, soldiers.

"It's getting dark," Livia noticed after a moment's silence, or as near to silence as the sound of an army could be, marching over the muddy grass that passed for a road in these parts. She looked at Semra riding alongside her. It was good to have someone to talk to, and she had to admit that the Amazon was more interesting company than any of her other officers. Clad in full Roman armour and riding a tall white horse, it was all too easy to forget that Semra was an Amazon at all. Sometimes, just for a moment, Livia allowed herself to forget it.

Around them, pale velvet reeds were starting to colour with the sunset, waves running over the plain in the dusk. The ground was so damp that neither the men marching in front, nor the thousands that followed them, raised any dust. The view was clear. In the distance, the plain curved upwards to a line of hunchbacked hills, their smooth contours vivid in the evening light.

Beside her, Semra nodded forward over her horse's white mane, towards the hills. "We could camp as soon as we reach higher ground. Once we get past these marshes." A damp swamp smell permeated the air. Small insects buzzed in it.

Livia took a breath, then let it out with a grimace. "If the smell is anything to go by, Moesia's reputation is well-earned. It is the backwater of the Empire."

Semra chuckled. "It's going to get worse before it gets better."

"Is that experience or your natural pessimism speaking?"

"Just fact. There's more marshes past these hills."

"And let me guess," Livia sighed, "more hills past the marshes?"

"Naturally. Only those hills are forest. Marshy forest. We'll have to use the trees to get through the swamps." Semra's blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "By the time we reach the forests of the Amazons, we should be as adept at tree-climbing as they are."

Livia gave her a look of disbelief. "Amazon, we have mules and wagons!"

Semra shrugged with undeniable smugness. "You know what they say. When in the Amazon lands, fight as the Amazons."

Livia glared at her, but a grin was already tugging the corners of her lips upwards, escaping her control. Damn the woman for making her laugh! Not that the prospect of dragging her army through muddy forest was a cause for merriment, but – oh, to Tartarus with it! "Fine," she managed finally, with what she hoped was some dignity. "If the scouts confirm your dire predictions, we leave the baggage train in camp. I'm looking forward to seeing this forest." Pointedly, she looked away from Semra, hiding her smile.

"That doesn't sound very Roman." Semra's voice came unexpectedly quiet. Livia glanced at her sharply. The woman was looking the other way, over the helmets of the general's private guard, over the gold sea of swaying reeds, her body jarring with the hoofbeats. "I've never known a Roman to like forests."

"I didn't say I would like it." Livia was immediately irritated that the Amazon should question her right to call herself Roman. "I said, I look forward to seeing it. If you must know, my reasons are purely Roman. I'm going to survey the ground all the way through these forests and marshes, back to Rome. It's high time someone built a decent road here."

Semra kept her eyes on the men marching in front, their boots squelching in the mud. "Roads bring armies."

"Roads bring trade," Livia countered, satisfied at the turn of conversation. "If the Amazons are to make a useful province for my Empire, I can't very well expect merchants and couriers to climb trees to get there."

Semra blinked in surprise, "A province?"

Livia shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "I don't have to destroy them to conquer them." She guided her horse closer to Semra's, avoiding the worst of the mud. "Free, they're no use at all. But conquered, they're a symbol. Rome can conquer anything – even the Amazons. And it will. I will."

"You know they'd die before they let that happen." There was regret in Semra's voice.

"That's what Ares said, too." Livia had meant to sound dismissive, but she heard the grim note in her own voice. "Well, it's their choice to make. If it is death they want, you and I can oblige them. If not, they can take what Rome has to offer."

"A difficult choice."

She gave her Amazon guide a frown. "You think I'm being soft?"

Semra stilled in the saddle, then expression became surprisingly gentle, at odds with the Roman helmet that framed her face. "No," she said. "No, I think you're right. Completely right."

They rode on in silence among an army of thousands, away from the setting sun.

After a while, Xena looked over at her daughter. The slight gauntness of Livia's profile was softened by the evening light. Xena fought the tenderness that welled in her heart, and the sadness. What could she do? This war was to Livia a necessity, a means of securing her hold on the throne, a thousand things she needed. She wasn't even intending a mindless slaughter; she thought that her offer to merely subjugate them should be welcomed by every Amazon tribe. A fair choice: peace under Rome, or destruction and oblivion. My daughter is Rome, Xena thought. She doesn't know how to be anything else.

"Go easy on the pessimism, Semra. Even my horse can feel it." As if in confirmation, Livia's horse tossed its mane, setting its decorations to jangling.

Xena started. "Whatever makes you think I'm a pessimist?"

Livia gave her a mischievous grin. "I've had a long time to study you. You're not all that hard to figure out."

There was a familiar sinking feeling in Xena's stomach. She was so tired of Semra! Trying to sound lighthearted, she said, "Care to enlighten me?"

"Gladly. You're worried about Eve."

Xena's lips twitched. "That's not much of an insight."

"Oh, I think it is." Livia swivelled in the saddle to see Xena's reaction. "You're worried that Ares won't keep his word."

Xena tensed. She relaxed very deliberately. She wouldn't let herself think about it. What had happened in the villa in Dyrrachium had been a momentary illusion of comfort; it changed nothing. Ares hadn't been around since then, and a part of her felt grateful for that. Another, smaller, part wondered why he stayed away.

Livia gave her a knowing look, but it was friendly. "You worry too much." She gave the reins a light slap to quicken the pace of her reluctant horse. The animal snorted at the mud, but complied. "Ares will get her out long before we reach the Amazons."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I know him," Livia shrugged a little smugly. "He needs me. I'm giving him the war he's dreamed of for years. The God of War wouldn't let some baby stand in the way of that."

"Not even his own?"

"Especially not his own."

The dull worry that seemed to be Xena's constant companion these days flared like a toothache. She said, "If I don't have my daughter—"

"Not that again!"

Impatiently, Livia motioned for Xena to follow her, turning her horse's head and urging it into a faster trot, out of the main body of the column. She waved away her guards, riding through the ranks. Xena rode after her.

When the two of them were out on the open plain among the murmuring reeds, the marching army well behind them, Livia slowed down and turned. The ground sloshed under her horse's uncertain hooves.

"Listen to me," Livia said, "We made a bargain. You know the Amazon forests, I know Ares; it's a fair deal. We won't attack until your daughter is safe, I promised you that! You'll get her back." She paused, as if debating whether to say more, then sighed. "You have my word on that, as a Roman and as... as your friend."

"I pray you're right," Xena said, but did not have the heart to add the look of gratitude Livia probably expected. Livia had called her her friend, but she'd called herself a Roman first. Would that ever change? Time was slipping away. Gabrielle was somewhere out there, alone. It was disconcerting to realise how much she missed Gabrielle, how much she needed her. The thought that there were still hundreds of miles of difficult swampy forest between this army and the Amazons should have been reassuring, but only seemed to make Xena more weary. Gods, how she wished Gabrielle was here...

"See," Livia smirked, "I told you you're a pessimist."

Xena gave her a rueful smile. "I prefer realist."

"General!"

Both women turned as one to the sound of hoodbeats approaching. The young rider reined in his horse with some difficulty; it neighed and rolled its eyes. Xena recognised the freckled face – Rufus.

"Amazons," the tribune said breathlessly, trying to control his skittish horse, "Not a day's ride from here! The scouts are all back."

Cold sweat washed over Xena's body. Amazons? This far west?!

"Good," Livia said without concern, "It's about time we ran into one of their outposts."

But Rufus was shaking his head vehemently, "Not an outpost, General! There's thousands of them, like locusts, the forest past the next valley is boiling!" He glanced at Xena, and she was shocked by the naked hatred distorting his usually friendly face.

"We saw the leader," Rufus raised an accusing finger, "It's Jana. Her friend."

"What?!" Livia and Xena said simultaneously. Xena's knuckles turned white on the reins. Gabrielle!

Rufus pointedly looked only at Livia. "It's Jana."

A pause hovered in the darkening air, heavier than the stench of swamps. "Nonsense," Livia said with the doomed certainty of one who knows it cannot last. "You've never seen Jana."

"I have. So have most of the scouts. She's leading the Amazons against us; all the tribes as one."

"All the tribes?" Xena queried numbly.

Rufus ignored her, but she noticed his eyes dart back to the gathering darkness of the roadside. It seemed to be closing in on her.

The shadow of a calculation flitted over Livia's features. "So," she said to Xena conversationally, "Your friend turned out to be a traitor after all. So much for loyalty. No matter, we can do without her."

"Commander!" Rufus gasped, aghast. "This woman's betrayed us all, she's leading us straight into the Amazons' trap!"

"Shut up!" Livia snarled with such force that Rufus blanched. "I lead this army, do you understand?"

"Yes, General," he mumbled, but Xena caught the indignant confusion in his tone that edged perilously close to insubordination. Did Livia notice?

"Now." Livia sat back in the saddle. "We get out of these marshes and make a fortified camp, immediately. Send out more scouts; I want a full report by tonight."

"But what about her?"

"That is none of your concern, tribune," Livia said stiffly, her voice hiding a warning. Then, under her breath, she added to Xena, "Tonight. You will go with Ares, find Eve yourself." Aloud, she said, "We attack as soon as we're ready. The fools are making it easy for us! All in one place like this, we can crush—"

"Wait," Xena said. She paused in the silence that followed, unable to go on.

Livia shook her head, her lip curling back in angry denial. The challenge in her eyes turned almost to a plea, and with a building sense of panic Xena knew she could do nothing about it.

"I have men on standby," Rufus offered, "ready for your orders, General." To Xena he added, "Don't try anything, you're surrounded." It came out a little boyishly. Wryly, Xena thought that he must have longed for a chance to say that for years.

At Rufus' signal the shadows shifted and became the shapes of armed men. With trained detachment, Xena counted at least thirty, well spaced around them.

"Well?" Livia prompted.

Xena felt the trap spring shut, but it wasn't the ring of Roman soldiers that did it. She saw the need in her daughter's pale face, the demand that Semra say the right words, curse Jana's treachery, cry for vengeance with the fury of a true Amazon. Livia was giving her a chance, gambling everything on it: her better judgement, the respect of her men...

She could have her daughter back, Xena thought. In this one moment, she could do it.

All she had to do was betray Gabrielle.

"I'm so sorry," Xena whispered, holding her daughter's gaze, appalled at the way it dimmed and folded in on itself, drawing away from her. "I lied to you..."

Those words, those precious words she had longed to say became a grubby little trick. Another lie; it seemed there could be nothing else between them – everything was built on lies, and it was all falling apart. There were no more straws to grasp, and Xena could only watch helplessly as her daughter became the Champion of Rome again, foreign and unknowable. Only this time, it was her own doing.

Some mother she was.

Livia turned aside and waved a dismissive hand, all business. "Take her away."

Then she motioned at Rufus and the two of them rode slowly out of the circle of guards, back to the road. Distantly, Xena thought someone must have stopped the march before, because the column was only resuming its movement now, she could hear the low thunder of boots, hooves and wheels starting again.

She did not resist as the soldiers closed in, taking the reins of her horse. The animal worried and tried to shy away from unfamiliar hands; Xena soothed it with one hand on its warm flank, stroking the white silky coat gently, like a child's hair. Her captors were uncomfortable, too used to thinking of her as their commander. Between the cheek-guards of their helmets, their faces seemed all alike in the fuzzy greying evening, differing only in the shadows of their expressions: some angry, others almost sympathetic, or wary, or curious.

"Get down," said one of the men gruffly.

Xena obeyed, sliding from the saddle. The soft reeds flattened under her feet as she sank ankle-deep in the mud. Bad ground for running, observed a practical voice in her head, out of habit. Like treading treacle. Better to stand and fight.

"Turn around."

She did, waiting as someone twisted a length of rope behind her to hold her hands.

"Semra."

Xena's heart leapt. She looked up. Livia had stopped her horse and was looking at her from the height of her saddle, her gaze flat and empty, dark against the setting sun. She smiled crookedly. "We're more alike than I thought, Amazon. You see – I'm a realist, too."

* * *

"You're sure?" Gabrielle repeated, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in the command tent. There were too many people: scouts, Varia, other queens...

"Positive," the scout confirmed. She was one of the southerners, fleet-footed and dark, with eyes that glittered like a bird's and were just as keen. "We saw them, right there." She jabbed a finger at a hill on the map, an alarmingly short distance away.

"Making camp?"

"And building fortifications."

Gabrielle looked up at Varia, then at the others. They all wore identical expressions, and Gabrielle knew they shared the same conclusion: this was it.

"We should attack now, before they're organised," said Prothoë. "Press our advantage." Others muttered their agreement.

"Thank you," Gabrielle said to the scout, and watched the girl make her way out of the tent. The whole thing felt like a nightmare, where simply imagining the worst made it real.

The Romans were here. This was a fact. Gabrielle struggled to arrange others around it. Options, what were her options? Perhaps Ares never gave Xena the message. Yet even without it, surely she wouldn't let them attack the Amazons... Or perhaps Xena had misunderstood it. Or – and this last one tore at Gabrielle guiltily – maybe Xena had received it, read it and decided that any army capable of destroying Rome deserved a chance to try. Maybe she'd led the Romans here deliberately. Xena had always hated Rome; now that she had her daughter, could she really keep her safe and lead all those soldiers to their deaths? Was she trusting Gabrielle to win this war? A little part of her felt flattered that Xena would trust her with such a thing – and that terrified her.

"We build fortifications," Gabrielle said, shivering as she looked at the map. "And send out more scouts. We'll attack when we're ready, not before."

"Lunacy!" snapped Prothoë. "We are ready now! Why waste a perfect chance? We could run them over before they know what hit them."

"I said, we wait." Gabrielle thought fast. "It could be a trap. If they're building fortifications, they already know we're here."

"Then why aren't they attacking?"

"Could be the marshes," Cyane spoke up doubtfully, and Varia nodded – "The valley between us and that hill is all swamps. More swamps to the west, too. Not enough room to deploy, nowhere to retreat. We won't manage to dislodge them off that hill, even if we do reach them before they've fortified their camp. Not unless we find some dry ground." Cyane raised her eyes from the map. "Gabrielle is right. We can't move until we have the scouts' report."

Grateful for the support, Gabrielle sagged onto her stool. "Varia," she said, "can I ask you to organise our fortifications?"

"Of course."

Gabrielle looked around, making sure they were listening. "We'll need everyone's support on this. There will be no attack until we know exactly what's going on. We must be ready."

There were reluctant nods, and Prothoë frowned in displeasure, but no one voiced an objection. It would have to do.

"The council will meet again tomorrow, at dawn."

Salutes were exchanged, and then everyone was filing out. Gabrielle stared at the map, at the faint brownish mark left by the scout's finger. "Xena," she murmured, "what are you doing?"

"You know what she's doing," came a deep, familiar voice from the shadows. Gabrielle whirled about so abruptly that the stool folded under her and she found herself on the floor, staring up at the God of War. He looked on in amusement, one hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword. "Need a hand?"

"Ares!" Gabrielle scrambled to her feet, blood pounding in her head. She grit her teeth, "I knew it! What have you done to Xena?"

Even before the words left her mouth, Gabrielle became conscious of a difference in him. Something had changed since their last meeting in forest. She took an involuntary step back. There was a new coldness in Ares' face, and his usual self-assured smirk was more condescension than humour. His eyes were flat, but they burned with something hard and unforgiving, like the rubies in his gauntlets and sword.

Gabrielle felt suddenly uncertain. Softly, she echoed, "What have you done..."

"Done?" His smirk widened almost into a smile. "Why, nothing, Gabrielle. Nothing at all."

She had a choice, Gabrielle realised. Panic, or anger. She chose anger. "Nothing?! Then why is the Roman army making camp on the next hill as we speak?"

"I assume even the Romans need to sleep."

"Dammit, Ares!" she exploded, "Don't play with me!" She took a breath, advancing on him, trying to ignore the whimper of fear in her stomach. "Why is that army here?"

That insufferable smile was still on his face. "You tell me. I thought the plan was to hide them in their forests, oh, about two hundred miles east of this place."

"Not my army! The Romans." Gabrielle felt her voice shake treacherously. Gods, she was all right, she wasn't going to break down now, not in front of Ares...

"Your army." He lowered his voice to a near-whisper, and looked right into her eyes. Gabrielle gasped. A wave of desire washed over her, a twist of white-hot flames. Her lips opened on an inarticulate sound, teased and tormented past all comprehension, until all she knew was that she wanted it, wanted this nameless thing, and then with no warning at all, she had it. Power. It thrummed through her muscles, and for a single heartbeat, she was invincible, ancient and very young, vital. So powerful.

Then it was gone. Gabrielle felt her legs give way. She staggered, caught herself on the edge of the map-table. "What was that?" she breathed.

"Power," Ares said matter-of-factly. His voice was like a splash of cold water on her face; Gabrielle stood straight again, trembling lightly.

"Power?"

Ares looked at her in amused pity. "That's what it's all about, little girl. You wanted to know what the Romans are doing? Now you do. That's how I feel every day of my life. It's how Livia feels now. It's war."

"War," Gabrielle heard herself repeat stupidly.

"Yeah," Ares said, and this time, he did not smile at all. "It's war."

He tilted his head back, and Gabrielle realised he was about to disappear. In the same moment, something clicked in her mind – "Wait!"

Ares looked back at her.

"You said Livia," Gabrielle blurted out. "It's how Livia feels now. What about Xena?" Then certainty dropped like a lump of ice into her gut. "Xena didn't get through to her, did she. It's still Livia's army out there. She is leading it, not Xena."

Surprise touched Ares' face, and then something else, something directed at her. Almost... admiration. As though he had given her a puzzle and she had found its meaning.

"Is Xena all right?" Gabrielle asked shakily. "Please... I have to know."

"For now," Ares said, but the look he gave her was not at all reassuring. Then the room was suddenly empty. The God of War vanished so soundlessly that for a moment, Gabrielle wondered if he had been there at all.

She bent down to pick up her stool with slow, jerky movements, and set it meticulously upright. My army, she had said to Ares. Gods... What had she done? And what had she done to Xena?

* * *

The air whined – and slashed across Xena's back, another line of fire. And again. The whip paused, and Xena snatched a breath, staring mindlessly at the tent wall before her face. The dank air tasted like sweat. She tried to empty her soul, to focus on those long-gone words of Lao Ma's: stop willing, stop desiring, stop hating.

She couldn't... she couldn't do it, couldn't stop thinking, and when the whip returned it made no difference at all. It cut her again, but the pain was a distant dread on the edge of her perception. Xena put all her efforts into trying to control the rage that lashed her from within, and every time the whip licked her back it unfolded a little more, gained strength, tempting her. She ground her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. It didn't help. All she could see was red, an endless sea of red filled with hatred and an ancient agony. Her mind could no longer separate Ares' face from Caesar's, or this whip from the ropes of her cross. She knew this rage, this dark thing hatching in her soul. Betrayal. The whip struck her again.

How could she have been so blind? Her daughter had told her that she was giving Ares the war of his dreams, and still it hadn't hit home; Xena could not forgive herself for it, didn't want to. Ares knew, must have known what had happened to Gabrielle, why she was leading the Amazons in war, and he didn't tell her. And a damned, stupid part of her had listened to his lies, had wanted to believe that he cared about Eve... Enough to let her live again. He sang with her! He had sat beside her, pretending to be human, to understand, while all the while Gabrielle was calling for help somewhere... And she'd let him touch her. Gods, after all these years she'd let him touch her... Wanted him to touch her, longed for warm hands on her bare skin, for the taste of his lips... The next blow seemed to slash right across her heart, and Xena couldn't bear it any longer. She screamed.

The sound rose over her ponderously, unfurling black wings, then shot out from the tent, as though scattering into a flock of shrieking ravens over the camp. In a corner of her mind that was too distant for pain, Xena imagined soldiers dropping their tasks to glance fearfully at her prison, shuddering at the inhuman sound.

The whipping stopped, fading into the silence of breaths. Xena again became aware of the featureless brown leather of the wall before her. Her view became obscured by the tunic of a Roman soldier. There was a fine spray of red on it.

"Sorry 'bout that," his voice sounded from far above her, the sincere but impersonal apology of a man who had completed an unpleasant duty. "Rome's not fond of traitors."

Xena moved her head, without looking up. She could not speak for fear that the black rage inside her, barely leashed, would break free. She didn't want to hurt this soldier. Not him.

He retied the ropes around her wrists and jerked Xena backwards into a sitting position on the earthen floor. Her back screeched into agony. By the time she had disentangled the pain from her mind, she was alone in the bare tent.

It didn't last long.

The familiar ripple of awareness engulfed her, searing broken skin. Even before it was over, Xena had struggled to her feet, twisting to adjust the linen wrap crossed over her hips and breasts, standing up awkwardly with bound feet and hands. She would not face him kneeling.

Ares' appearance was utterly silent, the way it hadn't been in years; the power it radiated needed no flash of light to make itself felt. He materialised into the space before her, a thicker black in the dim air, then became real. The metal studs on his vest gleamed dully in the half-light. His eyes were hooded, his stance impassive. He had appeared this way when he'd framed her for murder all those years ago, trying to force her to return to him. Beyond arrogance, it was the cold assumption of a god that no mortal could withstand his will.

Xena raised her eyes to his. She saw no trace in them of the man whose hand had stroked her shoulder in uneasy comfort, so sincere she had almost believed it. That had been a passing joke. Now, she was looking at the God of War as he truly was. He held out his hand.

"Come with me."

Xena felt the ropes slip from her wrists and ankles, freeing her. Her mouth distended into the mockery of a smile. "I've already come too far with you, Ares. It ends here."

"Does it?" He gave her a tolerant smile, as though he had expected this answer, and lowered his hand. "I think Gabrielle will disagree."

Xena felt the blood leave her face. "Gabrielle?"

"Yeah. You see, for her, things are only just beginning. Tell me, Xena, have you ever seen an Amazon council?"

"Once," Xena admitted before she could stop herself. This was no time for his games! She wanted to yell, but something stopped her, a ripple of power in Ares' eyes. "I killed them," she said abruptly, like ripping back a bandage. "All the elders of the Northern tribes, the whole council. I killed them all."

"That's all blood under the bridge. This is now. You sent Gabrielle to face the new Amazon council, and..." Ares shrugged imperturbably. "Let's just say your retreat-into-the-forest idea wasn't a big hit. So now they're here, and there's not a thing Gabrielle can do. Except play along. That's right – you've turned her into quite a little warrior, haven't you?"

Xena said nothing.

"So what now? Oh, you can martyr yourself right here, in this excuse for a prison, the Romans will be happy to oblige. But you do that, and you'll be leaving Gabrielle to Livia. Do you really think Gabrielle can win that battle?" He paused, and a flicker of emotion touched his dark-glowing eyes. "My money's on our daughter."

His words cut Xena the way the whip could not. Gabrielle, her Gabrielle... Livia wanted to fight her. Ares was right; Gabrielle was in trouble! And she was here, unable to help. How could she have let it happen? Gabrielle had gone to face scattered tribes and instead found a nation of warriors.

A nation of warriors. For a moment, Xena frowned at the words, unsure why they sounded familiar. Then she remembered and her breath caught: What touching concern for a nation of warriors. Ares! He'd said that when she asked him to take Gabrielle to their lands.

So the Amazons had been united all along, and Ares had known it and told her nothing, taking Gabrielle from her with a flick of his hand. And she had thanked him for it.

For a moment, she could not speak.

Ares held out his hand again. "Come with me. I'm taking you to the Amazon camp. It's time Gabrielle got a pleasant surprise."

Xena raised her face. The woman who answered was the Destroyer of Nations, leaving her god.

"No."

"No?"

"I'm staying here."

Ares' eyes came alive suddenly, flashing with disbelief and then anger. The aura of power fled like fog. "Are you insane? What do you think you're doing? You let them take you, beat you like some common slave! You could've—"

"What? I could've what, Ares? Joined my daughter in slaughtering Gabrielle and the Amazons? Or come with you now to join them in destroying my own child?"

"You could've joined me, and none of this would've happened!" A mad glint came into his eyes, like tears. "I offered you everything back in Rome; you could've had it all – Eve, the Amazons, everything – but you turned me down. You wanted to do it your way? Well, welcome to the end of the road!"

"You did this," Xena hissed, choking with rage, "Gabrielle didn't unite the Amazons, you son of a bitch! It would have taken months, years – but she didn't need to, did she? Because they were already united. Even Livia didn't know; it would have ruined your perfect war, spoiled the surprise. Then all you had to do was force Gabrielle into your service and you had your war: Eve against Gabrielle! The only two people I care about. That's what you've wanted all along."

"Xena—"

"No!" She grabbed the front of his vest; she felt like the welts on her back were consuming her, turning her chest raw until she tasted blood. "Did you think I'd snap, Ares? Break my chains like the last time you had me trapped – and kill them all? Eve, Gabrielle, until there was no one left... Until I was yours again! Was that the plan?"

Ares' mouth became a snarl, he jerked away. "You might not believe me, but my offer was genuine. We could've gone away from all this, you and I, and our daughter – but you wanted the Amazons warned."

"It would've worked, if you'd bothered to tell me just how strong they'd become! But you wanted your war, at any cost."

"Not with the blonde as their queen!" He flushed darkly. "You might not believe me, but that was never my plan; your precious Gabrielle had no help from me. That army out there? That's her doing. Bet you didn't think she had it in her! Well neither did I."

Xena's body stiffened, shut down. Breathing was hard. "Gabrielle did that?" He was lying; he had to be. Gabrielle couldn't have done it alone... But even as she thought it, Xena remembered the Amazon council she had seen, and knew that they wouldn't have given Gabrielle a choice. Being an Amazon meant being a warrior; leading an army against her will – and against her friend... What was it doing to Gabrielle? Why had she let her go?!

And Eve. It was Eve whose army would face Gabrielle's.

"You could've stopped it." Ares' eyes were boring into her, he was everywhere around her, impossible to escape. "You had the chance, and you threw it away. Now Eve thinks you're a traitor – and she'll stop at nothing to make you pay, not until she's destroyed everything you hold dear. Starting with Gabrielle. Rome hates traitors, Xena. Eve hates you."

Xena felt mute, unable even to deny it. Ares seized her shoulders, exploding her back into such pain that the tent lurched around her and her legs threatened to gave way. He paid it no heed, his eyes wild, staring into hers. "How does it feel – knowing that the person you love despises you? Trying to reach her, but knowing that in the end it will either be her, or you?"

Xena felt a terrible calm take her. "To hear you speak of love..." She brought her mouth to his, then past it, to his ear. "It makes me sick to my soul."

He dropped her abruptly, as though her skin had scalded him. Xena fought for her balance, found it, stood watching him. For a moment there was silence; all she could hear was Ares' breathing, laboured as if he had screamed his throat bloody, even though he had barely raised his voice. Then he spoke, and this time the words were polished steel, a clean slice into flesh.

"Eve and Gabrielle are doomed, because I make you sick." His jaw tightened into a semblance of a smile then past it, until moisture shone in his eyes. "Okay," he said, backing away a step, "but if I sicken your soul – this war is going to kill it."

Then he was gone, suddenly absent from Xena's every sense. She forgot the pain, all that mattered was that she had let herself be betrayed once again, and it had cost her her daughter and Gabrielle. She moved after Ares uselessly and stumbled, falling to her knees on the ground. The ropes were back, and she was bound more tightly than ever before.

* * *

Livia came out of her tent onto the artificial hillock that was its base and stood quiet a moment, her eyes recording details that her mind refused to recognise as important. The night was cool and still, black sky pierced by countless stars. The camp smelled of woodfires and burnt porridge, familiar smells made foreign by the fainter undercurrent of swamps in the air. Here and there, campfires flickered among the squat leather tents, chasing back the night from small circles of reddish warmth. Her soldiers clustered around them, mending weapons and kit, or finishing their evening meal, greasy fingers sopping up the last of the porridge with rough chunks of black bread. Conversation was subdued, curiously muffled without the usual ribald laughter and shouts, like the murmur of onlookers at the scene of a murder. More like a suicide, Livia smirked sourly at herself.

She yanked her cloak closer around her shoulders and stepped out onto the wide packed earth of the Via Principalis. A guard made a questioning motion, but she shook her head curtly. The last thing she needed was an escort. She needed to be alone, to trust no one but herself, just as she had always done. Semra had kept telling her to trust her heart. That figured, Livia thought. Her heart was a traitor, too. Three turns off the Via Principalis would bring her to the tent where the Amazon was being held. Right, then left, then right again. A small distance to negotiate. She could do it.

She pretended not to notice the way her men nudged each other as she went past, whispering with furtive glances in her direction. She knew what they were thinking, what unspoken thought made the air hum with tension. Semra's betrayal had been a sign: their general's luck had run out.

Fortuna had abandoned her Champion.

Livia forced her stride to be measured and calm, mentally counting the rhythm. Fortuna had abandoned her Champion. The thought did not fill her with superstitious horror, but with a tooth-grinding resentment. All her work, everything she had achieved, the fools laid at the feet of their mythical goddess. Yet that was how it had to be. What other way was there for a Thracian foundling to command Roman legions or rule Roman masses? They loved her because they thought Fortuna loved her. Fortuna existed only in their minds, and it was their minds Livia knew she had to ease if she were to keep their loyalty and their awe. Nothing else mattered, not the way her traitor heart had listened so avidly to Semra's earnest lies and lulled all suspicions, nor that Ares must have been in on the deception all along. Later, Livia promised herself as she walked, later she would think about how she had allowed it to happen. Right now she had to regain the trust of her men, their willingness to live or die as she commanded.

Their fear of the unexpectedly formidable Amazons showed plain in their hunched shoulders and grim faces, and several times Livia heard snatches of stories of the wild women of the tribes, told by men trying to cover their fear to men whose own fear grew with each word. If she lost them now, she would lose the war. And if she lost the war, she would lose Rome.

Livia crossed her hands behind her back and walked on; a general taking the measure of her troops. Her eyes, coolly neutral, met the eyes of a young ranker warming his porridge over a fire. The man gave a visible start, dropped his eyes hastily and scampered away into the night. Livia wondered briefly if it was fear that drove him, or humiliation, shame at the way his general had allowed herself to be betrayed. It did not matter, she decided. He would have no cause to doubt her after she'd had her revenge on Semra.

The prison block came into view when Livia rounded the last corner. It was a small tent, each side scarcely five paces across. There was a row of wickedly sharp stakes around it, facing inward like watching guards. Two armed guards of the human variety blocked the entrance, both looking as unsettled as only a Roman soldier could in moments like this. Livia would have wagered that it was not the thought of fighting the Amazons that bothered them so, but the superstitious dread that they were doomed before the battle had even begun, because Fortuna had abandoned their ranks.

Damn Ares and his fucking plots! He had played this war like a game, moving his pieces on both sides. She should have known that he would not be satisfied with her promise of conquering the Amazons. The God of War wanted a great battle. Under normal circumstances she would have been only too happy to give it to him, but now he had left her no choice, and that rankled. Damn it, she was the Champion of Rome, and he had treated her as nothing more than another warlord in his service!

And Semra. What was she to him? Didn't he trust Livia to give him a great battle without ensnaring her with all those lies about banished Amazons and missing children?

Livia frowned at the guards. Something was wrong with the picture she was seeing. There was more to this than Ares' desire for battles, and somehow it all came back to Semra, and the way Ares had lied for her. In all the years she had known Ares, she had never known him to do that. She didn't understand it, and that frightened her. There was a game here, and unless she worked out the rules, she would be nothing but a dispensable pawn, to be discarded when no longer useful.

No! Livia squashed the little girl that surfaced in her thoughts. She wasn't a pawn. That was Semra. Semra had been arrested and Ares had not interfered. Perhaps there was a way out of this after all, and Semra would give her the key. She would find out from Semra every last shred of truth, about her and about Ares and about the Amazons... Provided, Livia thought with a sudden lurch of fear, that Semra was still in that tent.

Critically, she assessed its fortifications, the palisade and the guards standing at attention, their eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond her. Neither stakes nor guards would keep Ares from rescuing Semra if he so chose. If her gut feeling was right, he wouldn't do that; anyone who needed his help didn't deserve it. But what if she was wrong, and Semra was even now telling the Amazons all she knew of the Roman army?

Then, Livia thought clinically, the game was up. They would beat a hasty retreat tonight, she would pay off her men as best she could out of her own coffers, and then they would go to their farms and smithies, and she would go.. where? Home? Livia tossed her head at the thought and strolled slowly toward the prison tent, as though her fate wasn't riding on what awaited her within.

The two men at the entrance stood aside as she approached, unfastening the leather flap and holding it open for her. Livia could see nothing but darkness beyond it, the contrast making her aware of the pale moonlight that sketched the guards' faces.

"Lepidus," she greeted the senior of the two. Despite the patrician name, he was a thick-necked Picentine with small eyes and a face that looked ruddy even in the weak light.

"Fortuna's Champion," he saluted her gravely. If his deference hid any mockery, Livia could not see it.

"Everything under control?" She made her tone brisk, hoping it did not betray the urgency she felt.

"Just as you ordered, General. No incidents."

"None at all?" Livia pressed. With an effort, she injected some humour into her tone, "No mysterious flashes of light?" She caught the confused look that passed between the guards, and added lightly, "No woman-turned-bird flying out?"

The two men laughed uncertainly. "No, General," said the second, a stocky fellow with deep-set eyes. "No lights, no birds."

Livia felt a sudden, dizzy relief – she'd been right! Ares had not taken Semra away; she was nothing to him now, she had no bearing on the battle... Something else tried to edge its way into her mind, but the thought was startled by the guard's voice.

"I reckon Lepidus here might've clipped her wings a bit." He gave his partner a bare-toothed grin, and the Picentine patted the whip at his belt, shrugging with the air of a tradesman. "She's a screamer."

With a steel flash, Livia thrust the point of her sword under Lepidus' blunt chin. "I gave no orders to harm her!"

"N-no," Lepidus stammered at her sword, his face not just ruddy now but a brilliant red, "Not in so many words, no – but she's a traitor to Rome, worse than them three back in Dyrrachium!"

Livia wanted to drive the sword right up, through the guard's thick neck. Finally, she removed it. "You were set to guard my property. If I find that your damage has rendered her useless to my campaign..." She let the threat dangle.

The man's throat bobbed and Livia could see thick veins straining in his neck, below his ear. "No, General. It was only a whipping, I swear."

"Hm." Livia let him sweat under her gaze for another silent moment, then turned abruptly and entered the dark tent.

The smell hit her first: sour sweat, urine and blood. It made her eyes water, and it was a moment before she spotted Semra in the thin wedge of light from the doorway. Disgust added itself into the relief Livia felt, and the mixture roiled and twisted nauseatingly in her stomach. The Amazon was indeed here, but she was unrecognisable. She sat motionless against the back wall of the tent, staring at a burnt-out lantern before her, legs folded under her, hands tied at her back. Her once-glossy dark hair fell in lank strands over her face and bare shoulders. Her armour and tunic were gone; instead, a length of coarse linen wrapped her body, off-white except where it stuck to her sides in dark merging stripes with angry edges. Blood. Livia could not see the woman's back from where she stood, and didn't want to. She knew what it would look like.

To her horror, Livia felt the stinging return to her eyes. Unbidden memories surfaced. Her own whip cracking uselessly against a man's back while Marcus lay dead on a couch of red velvet... And worse, Semra's wordless sympathy, making her feel like a child again, powerless to change anything.

Well, she wasn't powerless now! She walked briskly towards Semra's huddled form, the stinging in her eyes gone. Semra lifted her head at the sound of footsteps, and Livia noted with relief that she was perfectly conscious. Good. She would not let her slip away and steal her revenge.

"Amazon." Livia kicked the lantern aside and squatted in its place, face level with Semra's. "You know why I'm here."

Semra's emotionless, hollow-cheeked face did not change, but a glimmer in the corner of her eye became a tear. It left a shimmering wet trail on her cheek. Livia felt an irrational impulse to wipe it away. Instead she grabbed Semra's chin impatiently, forcing her to meet her eyes. Damn the woman for turning this into an Athenian tragedy!

"Don't make me despise you any more than I do already. That was a warning; you won't have another. Do we understand each other?"

Semra tilted her head slightly. Livia decided it would do. She released her chin. "Now. You're going to tell me everything I want to know, and I mean everything." She gave the woman a thin smile, like the blade of a knife. "Who knows. The truth might set you free."

"What do you want to know?" Semra's voice came as a shock, hoarse as if with years of disuse, instead of the few hours that had passed since her arrest.

"You can start by telling me what you did to get Ares on your side."

The intensity that flashed in the Semra's eyes was unsettling; Livia realised that the woman must want her revenge on him, too. It was strange to see her own hatred glittering back at her out of Semra's bright eyes.

"He's not on my side."

"Not anymore, that much is obvious." Livia broke the contact and let her gaze flicker contemptuously over Semra's miserable form, her tied hands and feet and her stained wrap. "If he was still on your side, he might've thought to help you out."

"Ares helps no one but himself!" A twist of pain passed over Semra's face and then it softened, lifting to Livia's as though she prayed. "Livia, listen to me. You said it yourself, this is the war he's dreamed of for years. Don't you see that Ares is using you? He doesn't care about you. He just needs you for this war, the same reason he needed me..."

"Enough!" Livia's hand flew to Semra's cheek, but some instinct made her stop short of striking it. Her hand hovered beside the woman's expressionless face until Livia found the control she wanted. She took a long breath and dropped her hand.

"Of course Ares needs me for this war. What he doesn't need is you. Why should he, when he has Jana?" She gave Semra a probing stare. "It seems that Ares has finally found a worthy opponent for the Champion of Rome. I must remember to thank him."

Hot pain came into the woman's eyes, and Livia smiled in triumph. "Feeling left out? You're finished, Semra. Ares doesn't need you anymore, and frankly," she sighed in mock pity, "neither do I."

To Livia's surprise, all pain drained from Semra's face and she only nodded, like a commander listening to a scout's inventory of a much larger enemy force. "In that case, why keep me alive?"

Livia could not help a flicker of admiration. Whatever else she was, the woman was a true warrior. She knew how to die well.

"Call it curiosity. I want to know what Ares ever saw in you."

"I've told you, he didn't—"

"Liar!" The word echoed in the tent. Livia flushed, angry at herself for losing control. Quietly, she said, "You've told me nothing. I want to know..."

She paused, and then recalled the thought she would not let into her mind earlier. A memory pierced her, a hot dart of humiliation. The imperial palace in Rome, the throbbing pulse of the music; Ares and Semra so close together, their hushed, emphatic voices. Then Ares' hands around Semra's waist, her face raised to his... Like a laugh in Livia's face. Their kiss.

She glared at Semra, trying to regain her detached air. It was impossible, she could hear the hated pain in her voice as soon as she spoke: "What you were doing at the bacchanalia? I saw you. Ares was slobbering all over you."

"That..." Understanding swept over Semra's face. She knit her brows in pity or guilt. "It wasn't ... that." She shook her head quickly, dismissing excuses. "I'm sorry."

It was a confession, and Livia felt a hollow conclusion inside: Semra had to die. Up until that moment she hadn't realised that she'd been hoping Semra would have an explanation, something to save herself. Well. It didn't matter. The woman had seen her weak and powerless; she could not be allowed to witness it and survive. Semra had to die. But not before Livia found out what she needed to know.

"So he fucked you. You think I didn't know? Don't bother apologising, I couldn't care less. Besides, you're not bad looking, or at least you didn't use to be." Livia held the edge of Semra's blood-encrusted wrap between two fingers, then dropped it in revulsion. She clenched her teeth. "But he lied for you. Lied to me! I was meant to be his Warrior Queen, but he wouldn't even touch me – and then he helps you betray me. You know what's going on, so just fucking tell me! Why should the God of War spurn Rome's Champion?"

Semra squeezed her eyes shut briefly, as though she had been steeling herself against this very question. Then her pale gaze returned to Livia, and it seemed to ask for her forgiveness. "Because the Champion of Rome is his daughter."

An inexplicable fear froze Livia's chest, stopping her heart. "What?"

"It's true." Semra's lips curved bitterly and Livia recognised her own expression, greeting the sour joke that was life. "Ask him."

"My father, Ares?... You're crazy!"

Semra said nothing.

Livia laughed, a short high-pitched sound that edged on hysteria. "How would you know!"

"I know." Semra's lips turned pale, but there were darker spots of colour in her cheeks that made her look feverish, not quite human. "I know," she repeated with sudden clarity, "I know your first smile, your first breath, your tears... I am your mother."

"You ... are my mother." The words fell like raindrops, a pattering barrage on Livia's skin. Insane; the woman was either insane or delirious from her wounds – so why did a whispering part of her heart want so badly to believe it? Semra couldn't be her mother, she was far too young for one thing... Maybe she was the one who was insane, and this was a trick of her own mind? – but no, she couldn't be, not when she was so close to achieving all her dreams, she couldn't lose now, not ever...

"You're my daughter," Semra implored, "Your name is Eve."

"Eve." Livia clutched the familiar name, and then the slide into madness halted, faltering. She glared at Semra's white face, "So that's your game!" The giddy realisation of this new betrayal was too powerful to fight. All those things she had told this woman about her parents, about Marcus!

Livia leapt to her feet, ignoring the protest in her legs, backing away, her head moving from side to side. "You think you know me? You think you can use all that garbage I told you against me, and I'll just lap it up? You think I want a mother so badly that I'll spare your worthless hide?"

"Eve, you are so much more than this—"

"Shut up!" She kicked out and Semra doubled forward, her mouth clacking shut, her hands going to her stomach. The ruined skin of her back split with a sickening noise and the stains on her torn wrap grew wider, brighter.

Livia leaned down to gather the woman's hair and yanked it back sharply, drawing a short gasp from her. "I have a mother all right, and her name is Rome." The sneer she attempted came out crooked. "It was a good plan, I'll give you that. Trying to find my weaknesses to destroy me. It might've even worked – if I'd had any!"

Semra's blue eyes were huge; Livia realised that it was fear, and that it was only the second time she had seen Semra be afraid. The first had been her arrest. Good, she was finally getting it! She twisted her wrist cruelly on Semra's blood-matted hair, once, then let go and wiped her hands on the sides of her tunic in distaste.

"Eve," the woman pleaded, "I know it sounds incredible..."

"No more incredible than your other lies! But I'm through listening to you. I found out what I needed to know." Livia traced a sharp fingernail down the line of Semra's tear, annoyed that the woman did not draw back from the pain. The nail left a white welt on her cheek that darkened to pink and then red. Semra made no sound.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm afraid I have a prior engagement with your pal Jana." She raised a silencing hand. "Don't tell me – she's your daughter, too? Or maybe mine? Well, Mother, you can fill me in on all the creative details when she's dead."

* * *

Gabrielle lifted her head, surprised to see Varia return so soon after the council had been dismissed. She frowned at the doorway through the smoky air. "Is it about the fortifications?"

Varia ducked inside the large five-sided tent, rattling the strings of beads at the entrance, and stood there, uncharacteristically hesitant. Her eyes wandered from Gabrielle to the map spread out on the table before her. "It's not..." she said at last, ostensibly to the map. "Not about that."

"The scouts?" They couldn't be back yet, surely...

"No." There was an apprehension in Varia's tone that Gabrielle had never heard before. Dread caught her, adding to the barely-contained panic inside; she had the dizzy sensation that she would not be able to cope with another disaster, that she was already holding on by the thinnest of threads and it could break at any moment.

She rose and crossed the reed-strewn floor, meeting Varia halfway. The Amazon flinched at the intensity of her stare. "Varia, what is it?"

Varia was still not looking at her. "Have you heard from Xena?"

Phrased so baldly, the question stung. Slowly, Gabrielle shook her head. "No." It was hard to admit the fear in her heart. Her thoughts kept returning to what Ares had told her about the Romans remaining loyal to Livia. He'd said that Xena was all right 'for now'. But how long was 'now'? And what threatened her after that? "I expected a message, or—"

"That's why you're holding off the attack," Varia said, making it a statement. "You're worried about Xena. Don't you think she can handle herself in combat?"

Gabrielle felt a twinge of resentment. "It's not just Xena! I'm worried about what this means. We have no idea what's going on in there. Did Xena not have enough time to stop them? Or did she fail, is she... is she hurt?"

Or is she laughing with Livia and Ares as they make plans together, had the temptation of an army proved too much? No, Gabrielle thought, Xena had changed. Had she, herself, changed also? She should have fought harder, sent a message earlier, ensured that Xena got it, somehow – found some way to stop this before it got so out of hand! Before she had turned herself into the Amazons' warrior queen. What would Xena think if she saw her now? Gabrielle felt her face burn hot with helpless shame. Swearing to protect the Amazons had seemed so noble, so right. Just one vow. Was this how it all started for Xena?

She let out a long breath, and it felt like the remainder of her strength went with it. "I want freedom for the Amazons, Varia – as much as you do. And if it comes to that, I will fight. I just need to know that I ... that we're doing the right thing." Even to her, it sounded weak.

"Gabrielle..." The softness of Varia's voice startled her; only then did she realise how quiet the Amazon had grown.

"Yes?"

Varia dropped her eyes momentarily – then she looked back at Gabrielle, her brow creased, tense with a new resolve. "There's something you should know about this war." She looked almost guilty. "It's ... about Ares."

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