Our Own Flesh And Blood

Two hands, lowered ever so lightly
Over my children's heads!
Two were given to me – precious gifts,
One for each hand.

But with both of them clutching fiercely,
Tight as I could only grasp,
The eldest I snatched from the darkness,
The youngest I could not save.

Marina Tzvetayeva, "Two Hands"

Livia walked out of the prison tent without a backward glance, into the fresh night air, away from Semra. Her own tent was just visible as an irregular shape in the darker distance of the camp-road, surrounded by tall fluttering standards. She headed towards it, her head raised slightly, her fists clenched on the sides of her cloak, scrunching the fabric. No eyes followed her this time; the camp was asleep. Every thump of boot on stone made her stomach heave, threatening to force it into her dry mouth, and her head rang like a shuddering bell. She felt drunk, but could not recall having had a single sip of wine. Maybe that was the problem. She reached for the wineskin at her belt, then changed her mind, resolving to have a proper drink the moment she was back in her own tent, well away from Semra's wild eyes and wilder stories. The woman was a liar, a traitor – nothing new there, she'd known it all along!

Still. There was one thing that Semra had not lied about, just one, and Livia did not know why she had not seen it for herself. She should have guessed a long time ago; the moment Ares had pulled away from her touch, his eyes riveted to the woman coming to him through the bacchanalia smoke.

Livia, Champion of Rome, was the daughter of the God of War.

Ares was her father.

"So now you know."

Livia whirled about and found herself facing him. Ares' head was tilted with unbearable smugness, regarding her like a pet. The faint blue aura around him faded into the night. Livia wished she could draw her sword and finish him.

"I told you you were mine." He tried to raise his hand to her cheek. Livia slammed it away, her other fist landing a hard punch into his gut, the force numbing her knuckles.

"Whoa!" Ares rocked back half a step but recovered at once, catching her hands. "Down, girl. I'm just here to offer a little moral support."

Livia tore her hands free. "Take your moral support to Semra, Dad. She's going to need it."

"So she didn't tell you."

Livia eased back reluctantly, regarding him with angry suspicion. "Tell me what?"

"Who she is."

The earth felt queasy under Livia's feet, like the deck of a badly laden ship. She opened her mouth on a question, then shook her head in annoyance. "She says she's my mother."

Ares leaned back and looked into her eyes. His own were hidden by the night. "And you believe her?"

Livia snorted, "Of course not! But if you're really—"

"You should. Because she is."

She stared at him incredulously.

Ares spread his hands in a gesture of sincerity. "I thought you'd have it figured out by now. You know," his lips curved slightly without becoming a smile, "You have her eyes."

Livia's eyes closed involuntarily. Then she saw it. The bacchanalia again. Semra's blue eyes over the veil, the smoke, her hand moving... Her hand. There had been a weapon, a curved blade. Livia followed the memory. Semra's hand had pressed against the metal and a trickle of blood had run along its edge to drip off it. Ruby droplets, rolling off oiled steel.

"The chakram," Livia whispered numbly, and opened her eyes. Ares was watching her inscrutably, in the darkness. Livia felt her skin turn to gooseflesh, the hairs standing up. "At the bacchanalia. I saw it in Semra's hands. Xena's legendary weapon."

Ares nodded slightly. "Yeah. Xena's weapon."

Livia felt she'd lost the capacity for surprise. "You're saying that Semra is ... Xena. Your Warrior Princess. The one who died over twenty years ago." She thought Ares flinched, but it was hard to be sure in the dark.

"No," he said, "the one who found a way to cheat death for a while, and forgot to let me in on the joke. Now she's back, not a day older, and," he paused, his eyes regaining their keenness, "she wants her little girl back."

Livia shook her head in disbelief. "Me?"

"That's right. You." There was sympathy in the line of his mouth. "You've heard the stories, Livia. You know what Xena did to her son. She took him away from the battlefield and gave him to the Centaurs to raise..."

"...So that he, at least, could know peace." Livia completed the old story. Unexpectedly, she felt the stirrings of life inside her, a warmth. "She came back for me," she said wonderingly. "They told me my mother was dead..."

"She came back to destroy you!" Ares' voice cracked the air, breaking the illusion of peace.

Livia tried to turn away, but Ares took hold of her shoulders. "Think about it. If Xena didn't want her son in battles, do you think she would want you here? Fighting for Rome?"

Livia scowled, but she had to concede his point: "Xena hated Rome. She destroyed Caesar and Pompey when they went up against the Amazons."

"Exactly." Ares released her finally. Her upper arms felt damp where his palms had been – but he couldn't be sweating, surely? Livia tried to make out the expression on his face: relief and something else, something harder. "She'll destroy you, too. Xena will take away your Empire, your dreams, everything you've worked for. She'll even take your name."

Livia forgot her uncertainty. If even half of this was true... Her eyes flashed darkly. "I won't let her."

"That's my girl!" Ares stood back in approval. "Xena can't accept it, but her days are long gone. The world awaits its new ruler. You. Win this war, Livia, and there will be nothing in your way. Or, you could do what Xena wants you to do, and leave it all to her Amazon friend. Gabrielle."

"The storyteller?!" Livia gaped in amazement. Connections slid into place, convincing her. "You're telling me that Jana is Gabrielle? Xena's peace-loving sidekick?" She began to laugh, feeling almost herself again. "Gabrielle!"

"Hey, hey, hey," Ares raised a hand to stop her laughter, "You don't want to underestimate her. Don't forget that she hung around Xena for years, and she's the one who brought that Amazon army to your doorstep."

Livia grinned. "And I'm grateful. She's saved me months of slogging through swamps, looking for her little tribes!"

For some reason, Ares did not laugh with her. "I'm warning you, Livia. Don't underestimate Xena, or her sidekick. Xena has already managed to shake the confidence of your men—"

Livia scowled, "Thanks to you! I would never have fallen for her lies if you hadn't backed her up! Why did you help her?"

"I knew you could beat her." Ares shifted uncomfortably

"But that's not why you helped her." Livia's mouth thinned in thought, then curved into a wicked smile. "It was because of Fortuna, wasn't it? You never liked that Rome followed me because of their false goddess, so you helped Xena steal Fortuna away from me. Well, don't worry. I don't mind. I don't need Fortuna anymore, now that I know that my father is the God of War."

"You got me there," Ares said with a short laugh. "It was all about Fortuna."

"Tomorrow, Ares. When I'm addressing the troops, I want you at my side. They won't doubt me again."

Ares' eyes softened very slightly at her defiant stare. "I'm looking forward to this battle, Livia. With you leading Rome's armies, it will be – magnificent."

"Oh, it will be." Livia felt his words fill her with delicious power that tingled through her body, to the tips of her trembling fingers. She snatched the wineskin from her belt and took a long draught, then grinned back at Ares. "But what if I happen to kill Sem... Xena? The heat of battle, you know... You've been protecting her ever since the start of this campaign. I hope you wouldn't ruin it all for me by flying to her rescue."

The sarcasm was rather spoiled by the splatter of wine when Ares grabbed the wineskin from her hand.

"Go easy on that stuff, would you? Makes you lose your focus." He looked at the leather bag in distaste before tossing it aside; it bled cheap red wine over the moonlit dirt of the road. Before Livia could vocalise her annoyance, Ares put his hands over her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. "Xena doesn't matter. Reclaim your destiny, Livia. Win Rome."

He was gone before she could reply.

Livia looked at her wineskin in the dust, blinking away the brightness of aether. Xena. Her mother was Xena. Semra the traitor was Xena. Her mother... Was it really possible, or was it just one of Ares' tricks? Her father... She brushed aside the cobwebs of confusion. One thing at a time. Ares was right; she was losing her focus. This war was more important now than ever before. It would win her the Empire, and the world. Once she had it, all these peculiar longings would go away. The Champion of Rome needed no mother. And no father, either.

Livia was barely fifty paces from her tent when she heard the voice of one of Semra's guards behind her. "General!"

She turned slowly and glared at the glistening face of the Picentine, his thick chin and nose distorted by the leaping shadows from the torch in his hand. "What is it, Lepidus?"

"It's the Amazon." He nodded back the way he had come. "Says she has something that belongs to you."

Livia yawned conspicuously. "Tell her to keep whatever it is. A gift for her services."

Lepidus looked startled. "But, General, it's no use to her! It's – she says it..." He shrugged. "She says it's your Amazon right of caste. She says you're meant to be their queen."

Livia froze mid-yawn, then carefully lowered her hand. "Their queen."

"That's what she says."

"Really." Without warning, Livia snatched the torch from the guard's hand; the man gave a short cry of surprise and flinched back as though afraid that she would burn him. She shoved past and headed back to the distant shadow of the prison tent.

* * *

"So it was Ares' war all along. He wanted you to fight Livia?"

Varia tugged at her gauntlet in discomfort, scanning the command tent as though in search of something to draw her eyes from Gabrielle's. The leather walls of were mostly in shadow, tasselled hangings forming patterns of grey on grey. The only brightly lit spot was the map-table with its lamp; Gabrielle could feel its light at her back, like a warning.

"Ares never told me about Livia, just Rome," Varia said at last. "I thought he was right; that this war would be good for us, make us strong. Like in the old days. Marga didn't like the idea, but I thought if I could only convince the Council that there was a threat..." she trailed off.

"They would make you queen in Marga's place," Gabrielle completed for her.

Varia nodded miserably, "Yeah. But there was a price. Ares wanted me to get ambrosia for him, the stuff we kept for sacrifices."

Gabrielle's eyes widened. "You didn't..."

"I did." Varia gave a short, self-mocking laugh. "It didn't seem like a big deal, if I could have his support."

Gabrielle silenced the self-righteous little whisper in her mind. Who was she to criticise Varia's theft, after she herself had stolen the right of caste pendant from Marcus? "Didn't you wonder why a god needed ambrosia?"

"Sure. I even thought about keeping it for myself, but then Ares was there. He took it, and just... disappeared. I never saw him again." Fear danced in Varia's eyes. "Do you think he gave it to Livia? What if she's immortal?"

"She's not." Gabrielle knew her reply came too hastily, unconvincingly. She tried to smile, "If Livia was immortal, we wouldn't still be here." The smile died. "He must've wanted it for Xena – but she'd never take it."

She saw the relief plain in Varia's face, and wished she could share it. Instead, she shook her head. "Livia may be mortal, but she's still ..." She nearly said 'the daughter of the God of War', but caught herself just in time, "Still a formidable opponent."

"She must be," Varia agreed thoughtfully, "if even Xena could do nothing about her in all this time."

Gabrielle discovered she didn't want to talk about it anymore. She needed to think. "Varia," she said as calmly as she could, "Thank you for telling me. It was brave of you."

Varia shrugged a little. "It was stupid of me. I wasn't ready to lead us against Rome, I know that now." She looked at Gabrielle with unexpected seriousness. "Thank you." Then she turned around and strode out of the tent. The strings of beads at the entrance clinked and swayed after her. For a few moments Gabrielle stood there, watching them. Then, when she was sure that Varia was gone, she blew out the lamp, plunging the tent into darkness, and went outside.

One of the five corners of the command tent was supported by the trunk of a smooth-barked tree, the tallest in the camp. Gabrielle looked up into its rustling crown, black leaves hiding and revealing the moon. It was as close to an escape as she could hope for. She set her hands on the lowest branch, swung her body back and forth to gain momentum then vaulted up, landing hard on both feet with a small grunt. The branch swayed under her. She climbed up a little way up and sat on the next branch, letting her legs swing free. She'd been right: up here, there was a slight breeze, and the claustrophobia of the tent gave way before the expanse of the night. Gabrielle wrapped her arm around the trunk and leaned her cheek against the cool bark.

For a little while she just sat there, staring into the distance beyond the whispering foliage, trying to gather her thoughts into some semblance of order. The ground below sloped down through the Amazon camp, jutted up sharply into the wall of fortifications then continued into the marshland that was all that lay between her Amazons and Rome – and between her and Xena. Gabrielle sighed. From this high vantage point the valley looked serene, the swamps visible only as a thin layer of mist that swirled white under the moonlight, as though stirred with a giant's unseen hand. Off to one side, the mist disappeared, and the blackness of the bare ground there merged with the sky.

Lately, everything had seemed much like that black ground; surrounded by ever-shifting mist that revealed some truth only to conceal it again in the next moment, leaving behind confusion and a heavy, numbing isolation. Gabrielle tried to picture Xena right now, in that frightening Roman uniform, perhaps looking over this same mist from the other side, wondering why her best friend had hurt her again. Why she had brought the Amazons west instead of east. Why she had cut short the time Xena had to bond with Livia and reach her daughter inside that hardened Roman shell.

Why she had chosen the Amazons over Eve.

Only none of this had been her choice, Gabrielle thought desperately. If Varia was telling the truth about having been Ares' champion – and why would she confess to treason she didn't commit? – then it had been Ares' doing: everything, from the time the Amazons had united into a nation, long before she and Xena had even awakened in that cave. Gabrielle felt her cheek grow hot against the tree. Even her own failure to convince the Amazons to retreat into the forests, that was Ares' fault, too!

He had known that her peacemaking attempt would be doomed from the start, that the Amazon nation would want war. That must have been why he dumped Varia so unceremoniously: he had meant to turn Xena's deal to his own advantage, using Gabrielle as a pawn, forcing to fight for the Amazons while he had Xena to himself.

Damn him! Gabrielle thought viciously. Damn him for separating her from Xena, for scheming to pit his own daughter against the Amazons, for trying to make Xena immortal and take her away while Gabrielle would be forced to fight war after bloody war for the Amazon nation...

Except that it didn't make sense.

Gabrielle sat up abruptly, bracing her knees on the branch, suddenly dizzy with a vertigo that had nothing to do with the precarious height of her perch. She counted back in frantic disbelief: Ares had asked for the Amazons' ambrosia at dawn after the last full moon... Before Xena had discovered Livia's plans for the Amazons! And thus, before she had asked for his help.

Unbelievable. Ares had actually, actually, abandoned this war – or at least one side of it, at least for a while. Just to get a piece of ambrosia for Xena.

Gabrielle lifted her hands slowly and rubbed at the imprints of bark on her palms. The idea that Ares could abandon a war, any war, let alone one of this magnitude, seemed even crazier than her previous certainty that he had trapped her into leading it. Only crazy as it was, she believed it. She wished suddenly that she didn't; it would have been easier to think that Gabrielle-the-Amazon-Queen had been a helpless puppet in another of Ares' games. But that would have been like blaming Xena for the darkness that had taken over her own soul after Hope's birth, and the hurt and betrayals that followed. She had let Xena take the blame then, and she could let Ares take the blame now. It would be so easy. After all, he was the God of War; he'd probably be flattered. Only this wasn't about Ares. It was about her, and this time, she would not shy away from the truth. The God of War may not have lifted a finger to avert this conflict, but it hadn't been Ares who had sent the Amazons against his daughter and Xena. It had been Gabrielle of Potadeia.

It was a relief to admit it. Gabrielle managed a sad half-smile at herself. She had made bad decisions perhaps, but at least they had been hers. And if she could get herself into this mess, she could get herself out of it.

There had been a little girl in Potadeia who believed in the goodness inside all people, even ones with a knife to your throat. Of course, that had been before she'd had a knife to her throat... But it was that little girl who had stopped a war once, when the Horde had terrorised Athens. Tending to a prisoner, she'd realised that the barbarian warriors dying on the battlefield were calling for water, and she'd crawled through the mud and bodies and blood to give a drink to the wounded and dying. The Horde had taken that for a truce. Understanding the other side, Xena had said then. That was how little Gabrielle had ended the war: she had talked to the other side. It was time the Amazon Queen took a few lessons from that village girl.

For the first time since she had heard the scouts report sighting the Roman forces, Gabrielle felt some sense of control returning. It wasn't too late. She just had to talk to the other side, to Xena, to Livia, to Rome. And if Ares had been willing to forgo this war before...

Gabrielle leapt to her feet, balancing easily on the branch, and called, "Ares!"

Dimly, she was aware of how comfortable she had become with this, with climbing trees and wearing armour. She pushed that worrying thought aside and repeated, "Ares, I need to ask you something." When no reply came, she softened her tone. "Please."

She strained her awareness, listening with her entire body to the night, to the small sounds of insects in the grass below, to the whisperings of the leaves around her. She wasn't even sure what she was listening for. Xena did this somehow, but Gabrielle had no idea what would alert her to Ares' presence. It didn't matter, she decided. She didn't have to see him. She just hoped he was listening.

"Ares," she said softly, "I know about Varia. And the Amazon nation. And I know you were going to make the Amazons fight Rome, before you gave up the idea. For Xena."

"Oh, really."

Gabrielle was ready for him. She turned slowly, keeping a tight rein on her sudden hopefulness, trying to look calm and unruffled. Ares stood on the tapering end of the same branch a couple of paces away; it sprang and bent slightly under his weight. He looked ... strange. Not the looming dark god with burning eyes who had taunted her earlier – more like a man tormented by visions, enraged because he would not show his fear. Gabrielle caught the movement as he schooled his face into an expression of bored scepticism.

"Perhaps you haven't heard: I don't make a habit of giving up without a fight." He motioned in the direction of the Roman camp. "And that's where you come in. I think I'll enjoy this battle."

"I think not."

Ares actually stared at her. Gabrielle felt her spirits rise a little more. He didn't look particularly godly or frightening right now, stunned as he was at her audacity. Maybe that was how Xena saw him: not as the God of War, but just as a man with exasperating habits and a bad job, who could be badgered into having some decency. And there was a bit of decency inside him, if only a very little. At least he had told her about Xena, that she was all right 'for now'.... Whatever 'for now' meant.

Gabrielle swallowed a little. "I wanted to, uh... thank you. For what you did earlier. For telling me about Xena." She paused, steeling herself. "Why did you?"

Ares gave her a withering look, but Gabrielle thought she caught a glimpse of discomfort in it. "I told you nothing. And I intend to keep it that way, so if that's all you were going to ask—" He stepped back as if to disappear.

"Not all," Gabrielle interrupted, and felt quite pleased with herself. She could do this. "Ares, about this war..."

"It's all yours, blondie," he scowled. "It's a bit too late to back out."

Gabrielle felt herself getting angry. "Too late for whom? For Xena, for your daughter? Ares, if you let this happen, it will be too late. For all of you."

Ares' mouth thinned in exasperation. "Save the dramatics, Gabrielle. You have an army of fifty thousand waiting for your orders. Most warriors in your shoes would be calling the God of War for advice right about now. Unless you're one of them, I suggest you stop wasting my time."

Gabrielle stilled her tongue with an effort, saying nothing, just looking up at Ares' face in the night.

"What?" he barked, and Gabrielle realised with a jolt that she was getting to him. Another surge of hopefulness sent her breath aflutter. Perhaps there was a chance...

"You're a coward," she said with icy composure. She wondered where it had come from, but it was just a passing curiosity, she felt borne away by her conviction. "You're afraid of me."

Ares gave an incredulous laugh. "Please tell me you're joking."

"You are. You're so scared of the truth, you can't even meet my eyes." Ares jerked his eyes to hers deliberately, but Gabrielle did not pause. "But I know, Ares. You were going to give up this war. You even brought me here, knowing I would try to stop it. Only the war happened anyway and you didn't have the guts to tell Xena – because then you would've had to tell her about Varia, too, about your plan to pit the Amazons and Livia against each other. Xena would've blamed you, and she was already furious with you because of Eve—"

"First I'm scared of the 'truth', now it's Xena?"

"Fine then." Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at him; Ares looked like he'd been going to cross his arms, then decided against it, meeting her stare. "So tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you weren't scared. Tell me you gave Xena my message."

He did cross his arms. Like a defiant child, Gabrielle thought, and the ridiculousness of that image nearly made her laugh; next to him, she was the one who should have felt like a child. She waited. When he continued to say nothing, she sighed.

"Ares... You don't have to do this. You were going to stop this war once before. So what's changed? Xena has seen the Amazons now; she must know about the tribes uniting anyway. Maybe she is furious with you, but look – this is your chance." She gave Ares a tense smile, but his face remained impassive in the dappled shadows of the tree. "Take me to her. I'll tell Xena the truth; she'll know this wasn't your doing. Come on." She hesitated a moment, then stretched out her arm and touched his hand. His skin was surprisingly warm. "Please. Let me talk to her."

Ares gripped her hand painfully and flung it aside. "Poor girl."

His voice dropped so deep it was almost soundless, like a bass string, vibrating with power. Gabrielle's words snagged in her throat at the rage that came into his face. All her courage fled; she backed into the tree trunk, wondering it this was how it would end, if he would kill her here.

"You presume to know why a god does something? Let me enlighten you, Gabrielle." He took a step forward on the branch. "I made this war. I twisted your miserable little life and all the little maggots around you, and Livia, and Xena – because I'm the God of War, and I will not be dictated to by a mortal! And now, you're going to fight, and you're going to give me the greatest war in centuries." His voice rose abruptly, "I can feel it! The pulse of battle in my veins, the blood, the glory, the death... Ohh, what a blast!"

Gabrielle had backed hard against the tree, her nails digging into the bark behind her, her heart racing with terror. Ares leaned in to her and smiled, horribly. "You are nothing, Gabrielle. You can't change a thing; not you, not any of you!" His eyes lifted to the lacing of black sky in the treetop and in that moment Gabrielle wondered if he had lost his mind; then his gaze returned to her, wide and dark, "Get it? Nothing! There is only this war, and thousands of other wars for centuries, for millennia, forever! You think you can stop it? You can't stop it, Gabrielle. Not you, not Livia, not even Xena!" There was white in the corners of his mouth.

"I don't believe that!" Gabrielle heard her own voice, and could not believe she had spoken. Apparently neither could Ares, because he froze where he stood.

"You're lying!" Gabrielle repeated, to her own mounting horror. "You didn't make this war. But you'd like to believe it, wouldn't you – that you can manipulate us all like little pieces in your games, that we're just beetles you can torment for your sport. Xena said that once, remember?"

There was no movement in Ares' face, but Gabrielle stood straighter, peeling away from the tree. "I didn't understand her then, but I did later. You know when, Ares? When I saw people, real living people, herded like cattle to Dahak's holy ground to drench it in their blood. You were his lackey then, his little slave."

The muscles tensed in Ares' jaw and Gabrielle knew she had hit her mark. She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. "Felt good, didn't it, God of War? To have your will taken from you, to be jerked about to do Dahak's bidding, like a puppet or a leashed dog! So why don't you keep going. Sacrifice the Amazons, Romans, Eve, Xena... Go on. Maybe it'll feel just as good. Maybe it will be worth it." She felt the power fall from her words, as though she had run a very long way. Quietly, she finished, "Maybe you can be Dahak."

And then she turned away, because her heart was sick and she wanted to cry and she didn't want Ares to see it. The bark was smooth and cold against her burning cheek. There was a flash of blue, but Gabrielle barely noticed it, caught in her own memories. The agony of Hope's birth, and the greater agony of her life, of knowing that something ugly and powerful beyond reason was using her, and she was unable to stop it.

She felt suddenly stupid, and very young. A pointless gesture, screaming at a god. Like cursing the wind. She of all people should have remembered that.

Gabrielle dried her tears with a sharp, angry motion. Then carefully, she climbed down again.

* * *

Ares pressed his back into a silver shield on a wall. The icy metal chilled his skin even through the thick leather of his vest. The Halls of War seemed to ring and shudder with noise, grating echoes that bounced endlessly from one wall to the next, from sword to shield, like a hundred bards all chattering wildly at him over the top of each other. Maybe it will be worth it... Maybe you can be Dahak. Like the rustle of leaves in the dark. Dahak-Dahak-Dahak...

"Shut up!" Ares yelled at them, turning around furiously. "SHUT UP!"

The echoed fled, but he could still feel them, scrabbling under the surface of his mind. He paused for breath, his chest rising and falling quickly. He didn't have to put up with this. He didn't even know why he'd talked to the blonde, why he'd let her say all those things. He should never have allowed Varia to live, should have known that she'd spill the beans eventually. He didn't know how Gabrielle had figured out that he'd meant to withdraw from this war earlier, didn't care. It didn't matter. Not now that he was back in business, not now that Xena was nothing to him. Xena thought he'd set up this whole war, and maybe he had! Who was the blonde to question him? Nothing, Ares reminded himself. They were all nothing. And he was the God of War.

Resolutely, he walked to the back of the hall, to the tiered dais that held his throne. One foot over the first step, he paused in sudden distaste. This hall. It had been years, he'd all but forgotten, but the bard's wild ranting had brought back memories. Hope's cocoon, its slimy translucent bulk wedged disgustingly into his throne like it belonged there; Dahak's voice scalding his mind with demands... Felt good, didn't it, God of War? To have your will taken from you, to be jerked about to do Dahak's bidding, like a puppet or a leashed dog!.. And Hope's insistent hands snaking cold and intimate around his body, her touch freezing him even as Dahak's taunts burned him inside, humiliating him.

Trapped. That was what he'd felt then, and the shame was still hot even after all this time. He had been manipulated, a pawn in a game completely beyond his control. Was this how mortals felt?

Ares refused the memories. He mounted the high dais steps with all the ease he could summon, seating himself in the supple leather of his throne. He leaned back. The echoes ceased; black marble columns stood tall and silent around the hall, just as they always had. He was overreacting. Dahak was gone and his evil brat was dead, and none of it had anything to do with him. It was all in the past. He was just about to congratulate himself for regaining control, when the thought returned defiantly, as though Gabrielle's raving accusations had found a new home in his mind. Maybe you can be Dahak.

It couldn't be true. He wasn't anything like Dahak! Dahak had been something unnatural, not even a deity but a thing.

And that thing had found the deepest crevices of his mind and taunted him with weaknesses he'd never suspected he had. Ares shifted nervously in his seat. He couldn't let it get to him; it was Xena's own fault if she wouldn't take his help! He was moving on to better things, claiming his daughter, doing his job – that's right, it was his job. If Xena wanted to be beaten to a pulp in a filthy Roman tent, then it was her own doing, she couldn't blame him for it...

You're a coward, insisted a wormy little thought that sounded suspiciously like Gabrielle. Then his own voice joined in, mocking him. You are nothing, Ares.

* * *

Xena crouched on the dirt floor, her body shivering thinly under the blanket they'd finally thrown her. She guessed it was fever. It wasn't cold really, except where the spreading numbness from the lash-cuts on her back was eating into muscle. The broken skin felt infected, hot and stretched too tight. Her teeth were chattering, making small noises in the stinking darkness. She knew she should move, restore some feeling to her legs, but the blood-sodden ropes at her ankles and wrists had stiffened and movement made them chafe raw skin. She wanted water.

She wondered how long it had been since Livia had come into the tent, clutching the Amazon pendant she had sent with the guard. A last resort, that. But there had been no choice, not anymore. So Xena had summoned all the strength left in her voice and told the guard impatiently where to look for it, and that his general would not be happy if he did not deliver the pendant at once. There was a twisted kind of relief in seeing the man obey his prisoner's order. Her confidence had been a bluff, a commander's trick, something she had learned from Caesar. Perhaps it was important, that she was recognising Caesar's footprints inside her now. More likely it was just thirst clouding her mind.

She had watched the crack of moonlight in the doorflap after that, counting anxious minutes until she could see her daughter again, until she could have another chance to tell her everything. Everything, this time. No Semra, not anymore. Finally the doorway had opened to a blinding hot glare, letting in Livia, fully armed, carrying a torch. Xena's heart gave a jolt. Curiosity had brought her daughter back when nothing else could. Livia stabbed the torch into the ground, so that the room writhed orange on black and filled immediately with the reek of hot tar. Xena coughed. A moment later Livia was swinging the right of caste pendant before her face.

"So now I'm an Amazon queen." The derision in her tone could not entirely mask the spark of curiosity.

"Not yet." Xena looked up past the pendant, trying to see her daughter's eyes, but could not tell what the heavy kohl hid inside them.

"Meaning what?"

"It's a long story."

"You told Lepidus that this thing," Livia tossed the pendant into the air, catching it deftly in her palm, "can make me an Amazon queen. I'm not interested in stories. A simple answer will do."

"The simplest answer is the long story."

Xena paused, her head tilted up awkwardly. That was when she noticed that something had changed in Livia's stance since she'd stormed outside earlier. There was a new confidence to her bearing, an almost jovial air. As though she'd already won. Xena understood then, wordlessly. She was too late. Ares had spoken to their daughter.

"What did he tell you?" she asked softly.

"Everything you didn't. Your name. Gabrielle's."

That last came as a swift kick, hard. Xena turned her head to hide the pain. "I see."

"The pendant?" Livia's slender fingers were toying with it possessively.

"Sit down," Xena said, not to Livia but to her daughter. "I'll tell you the rest. I promise." Then she stopped trying to find her eyes, and added, "It involves Marcus."

Livia's hand clenched on the pendant.

The torch hissed and spluttered, and for a long time there were no other sounds. The fire glinted off the patterns of bronze on Livia's armour, the rising hot air billowing her scarlet cloak. Then Livia sat.

"All right." A faint odour of wine rode over the heavy stench of tar from the torch. She wrapped her cloak about herself. "I want to know."

Xena shifted painfully into a half-turn to face her daughter beside her. "I'm going to tell you the truth," she warned. "Everything."

Livia nodded. "I want to know." She sat back, her hands dropping into her lap, and Xena thought back to a bedroom in Dyrrachium. This time, she would not hold back.

The words came haltingly at first, like the splitting of a dam, a mere trickle then faster and surer, a flood. She started with her own name, because she wanted to say it to her daughter. She told her about Gabrielle, how she'd once risked her life trying to save an Amazon princess and how the woman had then given Gabrielle her own right of caste – the same one that now rested in the palm of Livia's hand. She told her daughter about her birth, the joy she'd felt then, and about her initiation into Gabrielle's tribe. And finally, she told her about the land of Ch'in, about the tyrant whose defeat had come at a devastating price, stealing so many years of their lives, and this child whose life meant more to Xena than her own.

"You were wearing this pendant when Marcus found you on the beach," Xena finished. "He told Gabrielle that he'd meant to return it to you."

"Then I'm an Amazon." There was no feeling in Livia's voice. Xena understood that.

"Yes. With this, you can talk to their council as one of them. Negotiate the treaty you wanted. You can do it, without spilling blood. You can win this, Eve."

"Livia," her daughter said roughly, and Xena was shocked by dark raw hurt in the eyes that met her own. "And you're right. I can win. I will."

Xena's heart gave a dull thud. "If you go to war, the only one who wins will be Ares. There is a better way, you're holding it in your hand! Come on. You're too smart to let it go."

Slowly, Livia shook her head, her eyes always on Xena's. Then she shouted over her shoulder – "Guard!"

Lepidus was inside in an instant, drawing his dagger. Xena tried to get up, but Livia pushed her back down with the heel of one hand and swung herself to her feet. She pulled the torch from the ground and flicked her head at Lepidus. "See that she gets a blanket. And something to eat."

"Yes, General." He remained where he was. "Is that all?"

"No."

Xena watched her daughter stand still with the heavy hot torch, her face all in shadow. Livia was weighing up some decision, Xena could see it in the odd slowness of her movements as she turned back to the guard, in the flicker of the torch flame. Livia threw the edge of her cloak over her shoulder smoothly, but Xena caught the quick tremor of her hand.

"Send for Rufus immediately. Tell him the scouts have a message for the Amazons. And tell him..."

Xena waited, so tense she had stopped breathing.

"Tell him, no weapons," Livia said at last. "I want a parley."

Relief flooded Xena's senses. The torchlight turned to a watery gold curtain in front of her eyes, it was difficult to see out. She blinked, several times, but by then her daughter had gone from the tent, and she was alone again. She could not help a smile, through the tears, through the pains in her body. A parley. Her daughter had gone to talk to the Amazons. Xena knew well what courage it took to stand before an army ready for battle and talk peace instead. She hoped her daughter would know it, too.

That had been many hours ago. At least it seemed that way. It was difficult to tell how deep the night was now, except that occasionally, Xena thought she could hear the chirrup of a bird somewhere outside, and knew that dawn was not far away. She huddled into the blanket, cursing her body for burning with fever, for shaking, for letting her down. She was so close. So very close. She didn't dare even to think about what was going on outside now, about the scouts who would have reached the Amazons, about Gabrielle... It was too fragile, it could all fall apart at the slightest touch of her mind.

"Traitor. You awake?"

Xena raised her head. The burly guard, Lepidus, stood at the doorway. He had drawn his sword and was holding it defensively, Xena noticed with fever-bright amusement. She wondered if he thought she could run in this state, or if the weapon was meant to make him more threatening. Then she noticed the bucket in his other hand. She moved her swollen tongue with difficulty, slurring the words, "Better be... water."

"Here." He set the bucket at her feet. It sloshed over her bare knees, making her shudder, and soaked into the ground. "Damn lucky, you are. General says she needs you alive."

"Then... I'm luckier than most of you." Xena wondered how much he knew. "At least I won't be... fighting Amazons."

Lepidus gave her a bitter look. "A real smart one, aren't you. But you picked the wrong man to try your wiles on, 'cause I know what you're doing, Semra. You won't be finding out the General's plans, not from me."

Xena shrugged, trying to hide the disappointment she felt. She hoped desperately that she would not succumb to the fever for a while longer, long enough to know that everything would be all right, that Gabrielle was safe, and Eve had her treaty...

"You going to drink or not?" He gave the bucket a light tap with the toe of his boot, just hard enough to spill some more into Xena's lap. Her parched throat closed at the waste of water.

"Soon as you untie my hands." She moved her shoulders, knowing it was hopeless. Lepidus snorted.

"Sure, and show you the way out. Drink like that." Then he turned and walked outside, resealing the doorway behind him.

Xena groaned, kneeing her way closer to the bucket, ignoring the now-wet earth muddying her legs, the tremors racking her body. She dropped her face into the cool water, drinking thirstily like an animal, ignoring everything but the blessed coolness running over her lips, down her throat, over her hot skin. She closed her eyes, letting her face float in the water for a while, not breathing, not thinking. Then she sat back, gasping hard. Her hair ran wet down her face like seagrass. She thought she could smell the sea, salt air, the peculiar dampness inside a spiral seashell. Gabrielle had given her a shell like that once, and told her to listen. The sea rushed inside it, Xena had heard it then. She could hear it now, pounding in her ears. She shouldn't have chilled her fever like that, all at once. Stupid thing to do, she thought through the rush of waves on the shore. Now she wouldn't be able to stay awake...

And then she was back in the sea, lying on her back as the waves melted in the sand, and Gabrielle was there beside her. She knew they had just escaped from Illusia and everything was going to be okay now, and they laughed and laughed.

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