Title: Aphrodite's Prayer
Fandom/Pairing: Xena: Warrior Princess, Gabrielle/Aphrodite, with bits of Xena/Gabrielle and Aphrodite/OMC.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, they are copyright Renaissance Pictures and other PTB. I'm just borrowing them for my own entertainment.
Notes: This is my very first legitimate foray into the Xenaverse. I feel like I have grown close to Aphrodite over the course of this story's fruition, and I feel like she has a lot left to say, even now. Tread on, and by all means, please enjoy and send feedback if it so moves you.
Aphrodite's Prayer
Part of me believes that because I am the Goddess of Love, I am therefore the conqueror of it. It cannot withstand my hold; it bends to my will. If I command it, it will obey me. I can instill it, I can extinguish it. For the former part of my existence, that has been true.
The last few years have taught me otherwise.
Aphrodite awoke with the usual warm presence enveloping her. She drew the smell through her nostrils, the incense and sweet musk drew a smile across her lips. As she felt the swell of her chest rise and fall, she slowly opened her eyes and peered at the heap beside her. She tilted her head fondly, the memories of the previous night flooding her head. The goddess took them in one by one.
"Can we just stay this way forever?"
Aphrodite leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead, sliding out from beneath his touch.
I smiled weakly. "No, my dear Anieli. We cannot."
As she sat up in the unfamiliar bed, a small tingle spread outward from her center, and she was bathed in golden light, disappearing among the dust and sunshine.
With the quietest footsteps, the goddess entered her quaint seaside home. As she crossed the room, the once empty, dark walls suddenly lit up with vivid pinks and golds; velvet curtains descended from the tops of the windows and all the furniture adorned itself with lace furnishings and fluffed outwards as she plummeted onto her canopy bed with an unladylike flop. Aphrodite groaned and stilled.
After a few moments, she rolled over and took a luxurious stretch across the comforter, shedding the sheer fabric that covered her shoulders and peering out the window at the billowing waves. Her thoughts began to wander again, as the waters crashed over and over along the shore.
Mortals have it the easiest of all. They wander through their quaint little lives searching, forever searching for their purpose. The moment I existed, my purpose became clear, and I was tethered to it inextricably.
Aphrodite took a quill and a long piece of parchment out from her bedside table and placed them upon the desk by the window. With a flourish, she prepared a well of ink and sat to continue writing.
What mortals also fail to realize is that I do not bestow love. I do not just bless it upon the littler folk.
It is my experience. I shoulder it. I feel… as they feel.
When a mother looks upon her child for the first time, when she smiles and is swelled with sweet joy, that is not just her smile. It is mine. When a man finds his wife in bed with another man, the anger that seethes through him, it is not just his anger. It is mine. When a warrior falls in love with
She stopped. As she stared at the parchment, her eyes became crazed and her breath caught in her throat. She sat, stilled, unblinking. Her conscience flooded with thoughts, her countenance spilled over and she choked on it.
She snapped the quill in half with her thumb.
Aphrodite did not get a moment's rest after the sun went down. Spending many long hours by the open window in the deepening dark, she sought comfort in the tides; a comfort she did not find. Finally, at the latest hour of nighttime, she could resist no longer, and took off in a sprint down the shore.
Her feet pounded step by step into the hot sand, the wind swept through her hair, and she took harsh, ragged breaths when she could swallow them. As she reached what she thought to be the fastest she could run, the tingle ran through her center again. She couldn't fight the urge this time. A crack erupted through the air and she vanished.
Where she materialized did not look familiar to her at all. It was still night, that much she knew. But the trees were too thick, the greenery overhanging her was indistinct and she felt a cold shiver run up her spine. She still felt the sand between her toes as she stepped barefoot over the damp ground towards the faint light she saw in the distance.
As she closed in on it, she caught the scent of a campfire, and knew where it was the Fates had taken her, despite her better judgment. She lifted up a few vines between herself and the glowing warmth, entering quietly and finding a nearby rock to perch on, silent as she could be. Sure as the goddess could say, there was a distinct air about them, one she'd come to know very well.
Xena looked as though she was sleeping soundly. A quiet snore erupted from the nearby bedroll, and Aphrodite stifled a giggle at the sight of the warrior so tousled and peaceful. And in her strong, unclad arms lay the bard, draped across her chest like a winter coat. Her hair was mussed as well, her eyelids flitting; a signal she was in Morpheus' care. Aphrodite cautioned a few steps forward, a pleasant smile pouring across her face. She began to indulge in mild designs, a repertoire of all the qualities she'd come to enjoy in the sight of her face and the pleasantries of her company. The thought occurred once or twice that maybe…
Her musings were cut short, as Gabrielle's fingers clenched around Xena's shift in sleep, and the warrior's arms drew her closer. Aphrodite's heartstrings began to pluck a strange and sorrowful tune. The longer she lingered, the greater the rhythm strummed, and soon it became too great. She fled into the darkness as quickly as she'd arrived.
A moment later, Gabrielle bolted upright, squinting bleary-eyed into the forest.
There was a knock at the door. The young, sprightly farmhand pulled it open with far too much eagerness and the goddess noted it with a glint of disappointment.
"Hello, Anieli."
The young man smirked crookedly. "I knew you'd be back."
She rebuked his arrogance with a hollow laugh and open arms, welcoming his embrace, his touch, his well-practiced worship of her unearthly features. She had taught him well.
He will make a woman very happy one day.
They fell to the hay-strewn bed once more. Aphrodite welcomed in the familiar feeling of the world's love, letting it wash over her; a small comfort as she reminded herself that this was all she had earned.
Imagine, if you will, a cup. Full to the brim with a cool, clear liquid. Every time infatuation strikes the heart, a droplet falls upon it, and ripple is sent out across it, one that bounces across the surface. Love is like a pebble thrown into that cup. It does not just ripple, it splashes upward, it jolts. As love grows, the stone slips under the surface, deeper and deeper; the cup cannot contain it and the liquid seeps over and flows out across everything around it.
My cup, if I could still carry one, would be nothing but stones.
The air was warm and dry that day. Aphrodite was making her rounds, popping from temple to temple to inspect her offerings. There was very little in the way of substantiality, but she was pleased nonetheless. As she picked up and inspected each scroll, each vial of incense, she smiled and blessed them all, one by one.
One particular request that came into her possession was one from a troubled boy who had been pursuing a milkmaid for months with no luck. As she studied the shaky handwriting and the careful but improper structure she found she was both sympathetic and curious.
The goddess clucked her tongue, and with a mischievous grin, she strode out of the temple and disappeared into the sky.
The village was unremarkable at first glance, and held no townsfolk that she did not think she had already seen. Every building was the same height, the same width, had the same dirty windows. The roofs were all thatched with dried straw and unfinished wooden furniture sat undisturbed on each front step.
The only distinguished building was a small leathery construct on the far side of the town. It looked like a makeshift military barracks, and outside of it was a small line of armed men, all swinging at faceless targets with unpolished vigilance.
Every person she could see was at work. The farmhands were wearily carrying bags of grain, the milkmaids hauling buckets that sloshed with each step, and the smiths would step from time to time out into the sun to wipe the sweat from their brows. Any of them looked as if they could collapse at any moment.
There was one boy who was not working. She inspected him with great scrutiny. He was sullen, quiet, not dressed like the others, and perched on a rocking chair, his elbows hooked uncomfortably under the armrests. He looked deep in thought, eyes glossed and lips thinned. His oversized boots clunked together as he swayed back and forth, and now and again he would let out a long sigh.
Aphrodite guessed him to be her author.
Just as she began to stride towards him to introduce herself, a shadow breezed past her field of vision and seized the boy by the arm, yanking him out of his chair.
"Tielas!" The figure barked.
The boy looked ashamedly upwards. "Father, I-"
"Why aren't you in the tent with the others?"
"I thought I was finished with my training!"
The boy named Tielas took a large step backwards as his father started in on him.
"Do you understand the time and effort it takes to keep these townsfolk in line? How am I going to come to fortune if my troops are pathetic and lazy?" He pointed towards the barracks with one hand and shoved the boy forcefully with the other. Tielas began to trudge wordlessly towards his destination.
Aphrodite cringed as her task became infinitely more complicated.
As she sat upon an unoccupied bench within the village square, Aphrodite began to watch its inhabitants walk by, unbeknownst to her presence.
I used to enjoy watching them trip over themselves around me. They speak in small starts, always the same words over and over. It still makes me laugh, really. But it is never a full laugh.
When I sit and silently observe, I learn. It is when I catch someone speaking without reticence that I can truly appreciate their words, whether they be praise or otherwise.
It breaks my heart that mortals are so rarely honest with their gods.
A racket erupted on the far side of town. The goddess stood and crossed the small expanse to a gathering of the warriors-in-training, circled around something she could not see. Tielas' father was shouting something at them and shaking his sword at the sky, as the sound of metal upon metal echoed through the summer air.
She stepped closer and stood on tiptoe to peek at the source of the jeering and clanging.
A smudge of a woman came barreling through the crowd, sword unsheathed and a fire in her eyes. Behind her trailed a ducking, swinging blonde, and together they darted towards the nearby brush.
The goddess laughed as Tielas' father yelled, "AFTER THEM!"
Taking two steps out of the way, Aphrodite waited for the warriors to begin their pursuit, then cleared her throat loudly. She willed herself into sight, grinning at the sensation, and leered at them.
"Oh booooooys…"
The angry mob turned completely around and began to swagger back in her direction. She shook her head at the predictability of it all. Catching Tielas' eye, she winked and snapped her fingers, slipping back out of sight again.
As the juvenile warriors stood perplexed, Aphrodite took off into the thicket.
I don't think I ever really meant to get caught up in the situation. Mortal affairs are tedious, repetitive, and never beneficial in the grand scheme of things. It's best to just sit back and watch it unfold.
"It was very nearly a win. We'll get them next time, don't worry."
"Doesn't matter, they know we're here now. I have to change the plan."
The blonde narrowed her eyes and began to pace irritably around the small clearing. "We don't necessarily have to change anything, the fact that he knows just makes it more diff-"
"Just trust me, Gabrielle. I know Agrarius. He'll have already begun packing up his things and hightailing it to the next town by now." Xena began to pace as well, their feet packing down the grass and nearly tripping each other in the process. "He's clever, but he's a bloody coward."
"I do trust you. But I don't think there's any reason to rework everything over a hunch. Let's just go on with what we've already come up with."
Xena stopped abruptly, tapping her fingers against her hip impatiently. "I think I need to get back in there. Dig around a little more. Find out what his plans are. I think you should probably stay low for a little while."
Gabrielle opened her mouth to respond, but closed it before the words could erupt. Hands hit her waist with exasperation, and her voice quieted. "Are you ever going to let me come with you?"
Xena's concentration was broken by the sincerity of the woman's question, and she looked at her. "O-of course. I just have to find a suitable target to teach you with." Her eyes were hopeful and sympathetic, and then they broke to delight. "Besides," she added with a grin, "I wouldn't want to damage that pretty face."
Xena reached for Gabrielle's cheek, but she batted it away before the warrior could do any damage.
"Xena!"
The brunette cackled and started after her, and they playfully wrestled for a few moments before the elder took abrupt pause. Her eyes flitted about in a familiar fashion.
Aphrodite had been sitting on a nearby tree stump, ankles crossed, chin resting upon her palm. She chose this moment to answer the question posed by the warrior's eyes; there was a crack, a flurry of sparks, and a spreading shimmer of pink.
Gabrielle jumped. Xena pursed her lips.
"Aphrodite." She met her eyes.
The goddess stared back. "Xeeeena." Her tone was patronizing, but gentle.
"Are you spying?"
She scoffed. "That's no way to speak to the one who just saved your miserable behinds!" She stood and walked deliberately between the two women, who were both watching her in a manner most unsettling. Upon hearing no thanks, she added, "You're welcome, by the way."
The no-nonsense arm fold crossed Xena's chest. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
"You didn't see my moves back there? Oh, I was mondo fab. I was like, whoosh! And they were like, huh? And then they were like, whoa. And then you were like, see ya! And I was like…high five."
At next glance, she noticed the stony-gazed warrior was in no mood for her persona. She scrunched up her features and waved her off. "Just go do whatever it is you need to do, I'll stay here with Gabrielle."
The warrior gave a grateful nod. "I'll be back in an hour or two. Keep an eye on the sun." She took off before the younger could protest.
This was, as it would remain, the loudest silence I had ever encountered.
It wasn't the first time I had walked quietly beside a pensive Gabrielle, but it was the first time that I had something to say, and could not-no, would not-will myself to say it. Instead I trudged, step by step, dragging my tired, ageless feet across the shoreline. There was nothing I could do but wait.
I believed that my moment would come.
The pair arrived with little more than a handful of words spoken between them. As the wind whistled through the trees, Aphrodite would glance warily from side to side as if listening for a reply to a question she had not yet asked.
The shack itself was old and falling apart, as it had been for the centuries through which she had inhabited it. The roof was solid, but covered in moss and overgrown flowers amidst damp, salty barnacles. The door swung rhythmically in the breeze, strips of cloth that once held it closed waving unfettered as it clattered repeatedly against the foundation.
The bard wrinkled her nose.
"The Goddess of Love lives here?"
"Keep your voice down!" Aphrodite hushed, grabbing Gabrielle by the hand and dragging her into the house.
The interior sprang to life once more as they entered; splashes of blue and sea green this time adorning the walls, and several cozy armchairs gracing the center of the now tastefully decorated sitting room. The goddess gestured towards one of the chairs, and Gabrielle sat hesitantly, her boots clacking awkwardly together. She began to look around the room, Aphrodite noted, as if looking for a trinket or bric-a-brac that might serve as flint to spark the conversation.
"So…" Gabrielle began.
A long intake of breath. "So…"
"Heard any good jokes lately?" Gabrielle met the goddess' eyes with pleading uncertainty. The blue that reflected back matched her desperation, and she threw her hands to her sides in surrender.
They both abruptly laughed long and loud at this, unable to explain the exchange that had occurred between them. Torrents of sidesplitting laughter, uninhibited, unprovoked, thoroughly cathartic, erupting forth from them and cascading across the blues and greens that once held no light at all.
Several minutes later, collapsed in a heap on the floor, the two women sobered enough to look one another in the eye, the pretenses they had built thoroughly shattered and left long behind.
"Why is this so difficult?" Gabrielle sputtered with a cheeky grin.
"I don't know!" Aphrodite placed her hands on either side of her own face, shaking her head, "talking comes so naturally. To both of us!"
Gabrielle leaned forward on her palms. "I know! And we have plenty in common, so-"
"Exactly! Like-" Aphrodite paused and furrowed her eyebrows. The look of an exasperated loss for words crossed her face and caused the bard to burst into laughter again.
It was in this manner that the two continued for nearly an hour, covering every mundane detail that the two could possibly have shared in one another's lives, from blonde hair to personal hygiene. The topic eventually settled on scrolls.
"It's been a long endeavor," Gabrielle admitted, shifting her weight on the floor against the front of one of the overstuffed chairs, "but I think the stories need to be told."
"But how do you do it?" The goddess leaned forward on one hand, equally invested in the conversation, "how do you tell a story that you only know half of?"
"Well, all the details I don't know myself I ask Xena. She's usually pretty honest about what's going on inside her head, helps me get into her character and tell her like she really is."
"And what about all the things inside your head?"
Gabrielle pursed her lips. "Completely irrelevant. I provide a little insight whenever I'm directly involved, but other than that, I try to keep my personal musings out of it. That's what I have my private scrolls for."
"Your…private scrolls?" Aphrodite arched a slender brow.
"I consider it a chronicling. Of my personal journeys, my quests. The things I've been through and the things I've seen." Gabrielle shifted positions again, "My …thoughts and feelings."
"I see," said Aphrodite, "and this… helps you sort it all out?"
"Oh, absolutely. I recommend it to anyone who wants to better understand themselves. Being completely honest with yourself is one of the most freeing things that you can do."
Aphrodite nodded in rapt agreement. "Maybe I should try it." She recalled what little she had already dabbled in, a flush settling over her cheeks.
"You should. Just sit down one day and write. Tell yourself about your life, the way you see it. It puts everything into perspective. At least, it does for me." Gabrielle shrugged a shoulder and began to chew on her lip. The goddess took notice. "I imagine there are magnificent things that have happened to you in your life. You seem like someone with so much to say."
It was like a switch had been flicked, and without batting an eyelash I slipped back into my persona.
"Who, moi? Oh, as if." She laughed bitterly. "The only things that go on in this head are beaches, bras, and bronzed boys, honey."
"You know," Gabrielle admonished quietly after a moment, "for someone who doesn't care about literature you sure know how to weave your words."
Aphrodite caught the eye of the bard who was gazing most peculiarly at her, most sincerely. A nervous laugh escaped her lips, one that she could not prevent.
And she could see right through me. Past my earthly decorations, my casual stature, my flippant remarks. In that moment I came to terms with it. She would not take me at my surface; she would take nothing less than who I really was.
Had she unmasked these selfish intentions? Were they ever masked at all?
I began to tremble, and fell silent at the thought.
"I'm worried about Xena."
Aphrodite snapped from her reverie. "Huh?"
Gabrielle had been looking out the window at the sunset. "Xena. It's been over three hours. We really should go back for her."
"Oh. O-of course. Right. Let's go." She stood with the young woman and grasped her hand gently. "Close your eyes."
Gabrielle obeyed, and with a loud crack, the two were bathed in light and warmth and shot across the countryside.
When they emerged in the thicket, there was little left to the imagination. A lingering scent of soot and hickory danced in the air, and they could hear shouting in the distance.
"What, that's it?"
The voice was faint, but strong. Feminine. The two women exchanged a look, and sprinted through the trees towards the village. The conversations filtered from murmurs to crisp, biting words as they closed in.
"This is the best you can muster, Agrarius?"
"You've already bitten off more than you can chew. Surrender, and we might even send out a notice to your little friend before we kill you."
"I sure hope you've got the walk to back that up."
Aphrodite could hear jeering and swordplay, and she slipped out of sight as Gabrielle snuck around behind the backside of one of the vacant buildings. She picked up a nearby sword and looked to begin a silent headcount.
Too many.
From where the goddess was standing, all she could see was a cloud of black leather. Inside it was one whirling, shrieking mess of hair and metal. The sparks of impact were vivid and colorful even in the broad daylight.
And then suddenly the ellipse burst open; two soldiers were sent sprawling to the ground in a single blow. At that instant, three or four of the men began to pace backwards. Their cowardice was thwarted in an instant by the hilt of Gabrielle's sword, knocking them unconscious before they had a chance to alert the rest to her presence.
With that, Gabrielle leapt into the fray.
The fight proceeded as Aphrodite had always seen them proceed. Another warlord, falling to his knees before Xena and Gabrielle. Not a single death on either side; yet the rabble who remained still fled for their lives when singled out. Further still, this was not a flawless victory.
As Agrarius was timidly quibbling the terms of his surrender, Xena turned her back to say something to Gabrielle. Her mouth opened, and the warrior leapt to his feet, snatching his discarded sword and swinging it high above his head, preparing to strike with finality. Aphrodite took in a breath to yell, but Gabrielle's eyes flicked upwards and she flew forward in an attempt to shove Xena out of the way. It was a hair's breadth too late.
Xena twitched to the right, the sword plunged downward, and it caught her, slicing her arm open from shoulder to elbow. She howled in agony and reflexively spun around, her right hook knocking Agrarius clear off his feet and into a nearby weapons rack. The structure toppled underneath him and he was out cold. Xena collapsed into a pitiful, bleeding heap on the dusty ground, clutching her wound and choking back tears.
It was all Gabrielle could do to hide the fear that wracked her, that much Aphrodite could tell. She shimmered into view and helped the bard bring Xena to her feet and over to a nearby well. Propping her against the cool stones, Gabrielle began to draw water, pouring it by the handful over Xena's arm and across her now sweat-streaked brow. The warrior began to hiss and squirm.
"Sit still, I can fix this. You've just got to stay with me." Gabrielle's voice was calm, but stern. Xena began to take slow, deep breaths, her fingers in a vice grip around her wounded forearm. Even upon further prodding from Gabrielle, she would not release them.
Aphrodite felt helpless. She paced, her fingers drumming nervously across her skin.
"Xena. Xena. Look at me." Gabrielle grabbed the elder's chin and tilted her head up. Xena's eyelids were fluttering open and shut, her head lolling back and forth from the blood loss. "Were there any bandages in the camp?"
No answer.
She snapped her fingers a few times in front of Xena's face. "I need you to answer me. Xena. Just a yes or no."
Still nothing. "Okay. Fine." Gabrielle groaned in frustration. "Aphrodite!"
The goddess snapped her head up from her feet. "Yes?"
"I need you to check that hut for bandages."
"The… the hut?" Her eyes scanned the nearby buildings.
"The big brown one in front of you." Everything looked the same. She was becoming frantic.
"I could just-" Aphrodite murmured, "I could just conjure up a-"
"LOOK." Gabrielle snapped, "I don't have time for your stupid parlor tricks, Aphrodite. Now, if you're not going to help, then just get out of my way." She struggled to her feet and barreled past the goddess. Not a single glance back in her direction.
Speechless, Aphrodite slipped out of sight again, but did not leave. She sat, fuming, on the ground next to Xena, and watched her. Xena's skin was paling, her hair matted down with sweat, and her fingers crusted with fresh and drying blood. She grunted with pain, and began to heave.
And I sat there, unblinking. I watched her writhe, I watched her bleed. All to sate my curiosity. It mystified me, though. Through all the agony she was experiencing, it was Gabrielle she was thinking of. The warrior was suffering a deep wound, a near fatal wound, and she was concerned for her partner.
Had I not known her myself, this would have surprised me. But people do very strange and selfless things in the name of love.
No, not just love.
In the name of Gabrielle.
She followed the pair around for hours, watching carefully as Gabrielle cauterized, stitched, and dressed the wound. She watched as Gabrielle slung the warrior over her shoulders and carried her gingerly, almost effortlessly to a bed inside the hospice. She even resourcefully found a way to tether the unconscious warlord to the nearby building, to question him when he finally came around again.
When her tasks were deemed complete by a confident nod, Gabrielle returned to Xena's side. As she sat, Aphrodite sat next to her, her gaze softening at the notion of resolution that flickered in Gabrielle's eyes.
Gabrielle reached a hand out to twine her fingers into Xena's hair delicately, the pad of her thumb brushing over her brow in an almost idiosyncratic way. Xena's eyes opened slowly, and she gazed upward, a lopsided grin creasing her cracked lips. The gesture was returned tenfold, as Gabrielle's hand slid down to hers.
"How are you feeling?" Gabrielle whispered. Aphrodite leaned forward.
After a pause, Xena croaked, "Like I've had my skin carved up by a worthless criminal."
Another smile. "He'll be waiting patiently for you when you're feeling better. And then you can show him the list of all the things he's going to do for you now."
She chuckled dryly. "More like all the things he's going to do for this town."
"Right, right. That too." Gabrielle squeezed her hand. She grew somber. "Thought you were going south on me there for a little while."
"Gabrielle, it would take more than that to bring me down."
"Still, though…"
"No, you're right. You told me we should have stuck to the plan and we didn't. None of this would have happened if-" Xena showed the makings of an attempt to sit up, but was halted by the bard's arm draped across her chest.
"There won't be any I-Told-You-So's this time. Now just lie back," Gabrielle admonished.
Xena grimaced again. "Guess I'm in no shape for negotiations yet." After receiving a knowing look, she added, "I dunno what I would've done if you hadn't showed up."
With a whimsical sigh, Gabrielle replied, "Oh, I don't know, probably die a horrible, painful death and leave me stranded in the middle of Greece with a broken heart, a legendary but useless weapon and an empty stomach."
"Oh, that's terrible! Wouldn't want you going hungry, now, would we?"
Gabrielle brought her lips dangerously close to the warrior's. "No, we wouldn't."
The wind whipped unexpectedly cold and swift through the hospice doors.
Aphrodite approached the farmhouse in the dark. The door across the mess creaked open, and with prowling footsteps she discovered a disheveled Anieli, holding on to his toes and crying, looking more like a little boy than that sliver of a man whose company she kept. She sat with him, wordless, and heard the powerless shrink of his voice swim across the dim light.
"My friendship means everything to her, she said," he choked, "she cannot imagine what she would do if I were not her friend." The word was spat out of his mouth like gristle.
His heartbreak weighed her shoulders down; it flowed into her, and she embraced it tenderly, choosing her words with matronly poise. "My dear, sweet boy," she crooned, gathering him into her arms and placing a kiss on his ruffled hair, "she will learn, in time."
"How long must I wait?" He encircled her waist, his head resting heavily on her shoulder.
"There is no way to tell, but your patience will reward you. I promise you that."
He was silenced for a moment by this. "I don't know how you could possibly understand."
She took his hand into hers, and placed it onto her chest. "Here. In my heart, in my mind. Understanding courses through me. And so long as love graces the thoughts of mortals, it always will. And you are so young, Anieli. So young. You know so little of these things."
He released her long enough to look into her eyes. Aphrodite was smiling at him fondly. "You always know just what to say. How do you do that?"
"I wasn't brought into this world just for my good looks, love." She shifted backwards on the bed, leaning against the headboard. She patted the space next to her. "Now come here, I'll tend to you."
Anieli grinned wickedly through his tears and obliged.
There is nothing quite like a swim in the ocean, for me. Under the moonlight, I stripped naked and dove into the waves, eyes open, my hair dancing about my face. I did not need to hold my breath, I just sunk slowly to the sandy floor and stirred it beneath my fingers, reemerging and feeling my skin cool in the wind.
I remember thinking that there was no better place to think than among the sea and the stars.
The sand and the sea salt clung beautifully to Aphrodite as she strode in from the ebbing tide. She slicked her hair back and dug her toes in as she walked, pulling a towel out from thin air and slipping it around herself. She opened her front door with her foot and walked directly towards her bedroom, ignoring the rushing sound of her décor springing to life.
"You know…" A voice sang from the darkest corner of the room. The goddess nearly jumped out of her skin, and whipped around, clutching her towel to her chest. "I never would have pegged you as one for skinny-dipping, Aphrodite, but now that I think about it, it does make sense."
Aphrodite exhaled her relief. "Gabrielle, what are you doing here?"
The younger woman stood and moved closer. "I came to apologize."
"Apologize? For what?" She tilted her head, bewildered.
"For snapping at you before? You disappeared before I had a chance to talk to you."
It had almost not occurred to Aphrodite that that was earlier that same day. So much had happened between then and now, that it felt like an entire lifetime ago.
"Oh, it's all right, I was no help to you anyway," she admitted, beginning to walk towards her bedroom door, ready to change and show her guest out. Gabrielle cut her off, her arm barred across the doorway.
"No, you were. You helped so much today, I don't think you understand. I never should have talked to you that way."
Aphrodite looked gratefully onward at her friend and nodded. She chewed lightly on her lip. "How is she?"
"She's resting. It wasn't looking good for a while, but luckily there were people to look after her. I think we'll be staying in that town for a while."
Aphrodite leaned backwards against the doorframe, her arms folded across the meager towel that covered her. The concern and distress that the goddess felt emanating from Gabrielle was as plainly written on her face as it was on her heart. "Come," Aphrodite whispered, "sit in here with me." With that, she sauntered into the bedroom.
The woman followed and found a comfortable place in the writing chair by the window. Aphrodite's scrolls were rolled up and placed neatly on a small shelf sitting in the windowsill. She watched Gabrielle inspect them carefully, without touching.
Aphrodite let her towel hit the floor as she pushed the alcove's curtain aside, digging through the various silks to find something suitable to dress into. A small tingle trickled up her spine as she felt a pair of eyes shift to her, her skin still damp and cool. She slipped a white sun dress over her head and turned to face her visitor, sitting on the bed across from her.
Gabrielle looked as if she were nervous about something. She sat on her hands. "When I was in the hospice today, I…" she paused, "I, um…"
The goddess tilted her head slightly. "What is it?"
She sunk down into the chair. "Were you there this afternoon? Did you come back?"
How did she know?
"Well, yes, I mean, I did stick around for a little while. To-to make sure that Xena was all right and all. I didn't stay long." Aphrodite began to ramble and stopped herself. "Why?"
"Because I… well, I mean, that is to say…"
"What? You what?"
Gabrielle's gaze was intense. "I could feel you."
The tingle spread a bit further when it hit this time. "Is that so?"
She nodded. "Mmhm, I noticed your presence in the room for the first time. It was… comforting. To have you there with me while I looked after her."
"All in a day's work, I suppose." Her answer was slightly stale; Gabrielle seemed to grow more apprehensive.
"But you left, didn't you? After a short while?"
"I did." Aphrodite crossed her ankles.
"Why?"
I had searched for an answer I could give to her. Something that would sate her interest, but all that I could muster up was the truth. It occurred to me that I would remain beneath her thumb until she could coax it from me.
"Well, because," Aphrodite began, "I can feel you, too."
Gabrielle looked to approach her next few statements carefully, her eyes avoiding Aphrodite's and her hands wringing in her lap. "How so?"
The words flowed freely, like a stream of consciousness dappling a page with ink. It would be penned now, the goddess thought resolutely, it would make its mark.
"I exist within love, Gabrielle. And it exists within me. As it pours through my hands into the hearts of mortals, they imbibe themselves with a piece of me. And, once in every person's lifetime, they have a moment where they experience a feeling of love in its purest form. This feeling takes them over and sends them whirling into the torrential space where it can be heard, smelled, tasted, touched. It is my gift to them.
"I fall in love, too, from time to time. There's no shame in it. In fact, there is nothing I enjoy more. But when I am with a mortal, I can convince myself that I am above love. I command and shape and bask in it, like an artist at a potter's wheel. It does what I desire, and therefore, it can never hurt me.
"With you and Xena, it is different. Your love transcends the mortal coil; it humbles me, it haunts me. It has a will of its own. When you speak, when you think of one another, when you touch, I am wracked by the sensation of it, no matter where I am, day after day. How could I possibly compare to that?" She was becoming emotional, her voice taxed and frantic. "How could you possibly know what that feels like?"
Aphrodite was shaking with such uncontrollable anxiety as she spoke, she felt she might collapse. The silence in the room had never been more piercing, more thick and heavy on her chest. When she heard nothing in response, she swallowed hard and spoke again. "What are you thinking? Right now."
Gabrielle finally looked up from her hands, her eyes sharp and dilated in the darkness.
"That I really want you to kiss me."
Her voice resonated with a newfound courage. She stood.
Aphrodite stood as well. "I really want to." Her fingernails dug deep; the undertow of emotions she was receiving from this woman were surging within her with white hot intensity.
"Then do it," Gabrielle breathed, taking another step closer, "do it before it kills me."
Aphrodite sealed their mouths together in an instant.
Within two seconds, Gabrielle had been pinned against the wall, her hands held above her head, lips open, air rushing into her lungs. Chastity had withdrawn, and only fervor remained. The wall began to hum and glimmer, a hint of scarlet and orange trickling in through its cracks and painting the room. The goddess wasted no time; her hands began over the plain clothes Gabrielle had been wearing, sneaking delicate glances with her fingers, briefly under each hem and back up again as her teeth grazed the warm underside of Gabrielle's lower lip. She bit down, and the first hiss of arousal slithered into Aphrodite's ears. She concluded she would coax it out again. And again and again.
A pair of hands slipped under the straps of her sun dress and pushed. The air hit her skin again and it felt warm this time. Inviting. She fingered the laces of the bodice in front of her and tugged. There was a gasp, and then the sweetest sound that ever was: a quiet, sultry laugh. The perfect acoustics of the room missed nothing.
When the wall could no longer contain them, Gabrielle sat upon the desk, heels stretched down, legs crossed and knocking. With a devious smile, Aphrodite separated the offending knees and felt the bard's ankles lock behind her as their bare torsos collided. Her kisses were toxic and unhinged now, a spectacle before the audience of the tides. Their tongues glided together rhythmically, the walls pulsating with muted gold and yellow and rogue fingers winding themselves into the goddess' hair. Aphrodite rocked her hips forward, feeling the muscles wrapped around her clench and release. She raked her nails down, and the hiss graduated to a guttural groan, next on her checklist of melodious effects.
Gabrielle began to arch, her head rolling backwards. Catching her from behind, Aphrodite traversed the moon-bathed skin that stretched so enticingly before her, beginning at the confluence of her neck and jaw, the pulse racing beneath her lips. She smelled like linen and freshly ground borage. It brought to mind flickering images of healing houses and grateful soldiers; a thought which Aphrodite kept close as she laved the hollow of Gabrielle's collarbone. There was another groan and a clenched fist pulling at her hair, and she persisted slowly, achingly downward.
Aphrodite's kisses blazed a trail of fire down the meridian of Gabrielle's figure, deviating only to draw one nipple into her mouth, and then the other. They cooled and constricted in the sea air, and were revived once more by her lingering fingers as she passed her lips to the blonde's navel and parted her from her skirt. A little nip here, a scrape there. She traversed the scars, the imperfections, the way her muscles rippled when she raked her teeth across them. She committed it all to memory.
The room was alight with them both now, gleaming in the darkness like sunlight through a tide pool. Gabrielle's breath was hitching in her throat as her lover danced her lips towards the apex of her thighs, a brazen plea threatening its escape.
"Aphrodite…"
The goddess delighted in the breathless murmur of her name, and continued, a thumb daring its way beneath her curls. Gabrielle did not cry out, but whimpered and bit firmly down upon her lip as the gentle brush turned into an idle circle. The slower the circle, the more the bard seemed to coil and expand against it. Aphrodite slipped her hand around to the small of her back and whispered against the skin.
"Open your eyes."
She obeyed.
The walls that surrounded them were melting, peeling away. There was a tugging sensation at their feet, and the colors drained from their palettes, leaving behind blacks and greys in the little seaside hut. Aphrodite's hand joined its other and lifted Gabrielle from the desk. The ground was nothingness now, the only thing left behind were blinding white footprints as she carried her away and into the spiraling dark. They kissed once more, slowly, meticulously this time. Their eyes would flutter open and shut as the blackness congealed into a whirling mass around them. As the tension rose, fingers and lips and teeth and tongues began to pry and skim and glide. There was a burst of color from above, and it began to rain down over the dark, glittering to gold and painting the world around them from the ground up.
They appeared in Aphrodite's bed now, the eventful three-step journey concluding in a wisp of cloud white as two entangled bodies lay flush upon its spread. The goddess felt her head being pulled back down to meet a pair of eager lips, her own body trembling with the effort of containing the growl that threatened arrival at the base of her throat. Gabrielle began her own dexterous undertaking. Her mouth was torrid and vigorous across her neck, her shoulders, the tightening peaks of her breasts. Gabrielle took the tip of Aphrodite's middle finger in her teeth and closed her lips around it, gazing amorously as it slid back out again. There was no disguising the smile that crossed between them.
That remarkable finger moved south on its own; it traced her chin, the curve of her neck. It counted her ribs, traversed the tiny dimple in the skin along her abdomen, cast a shadow on the inside of her thighs. Gabrielle's eyes gleamed a brilliant green, and Aphrodite claimed them with her own, as the finger slid further and hit home. Their eyes broke contact and Gabrielle's head immediately nestled heavily in the crook of her neck, a weary groan sending breath across her bare chest.
Aphrodite hummed contentedly as her hands began their familiar ritual, the smell of clean linen and feminine longing twisting into a delectable aroma around them both. Up, down, up, down, the fingers flicked, the fingers pressed. It was not long before another pair joined the dance, and Aphrodite surged above her, one leg draped delicately across the other's waist. A novice, Gabrielle was not, and she kept her pace effortlessly, her thumb teasing lazy circles, her mouth nipping at the goddess' neck.
"More…"
The word escaped her mouth unintentionally, a command as much as it was a request. Aphrodite arched forward into the touch, and felt the hips beneath hers rock in exquisite sympathy as they rose slowly from peaceful murmurs to demanding cries. Gabrielle's head rose from the woman's neck and they pressed their foreheads together, features blissfully contorted as the pressure magnified. It was Gabrielle who came first, the fingernails on her free hand marring the flawless skin of her lover's arm, a throaty moan erupting beneath the lips that so greedily sought her own. She writhed and clawed and did not miss a beat in her endeavor. As her breath steadied, her efforts redoubled, every movement a strum on the rhythm Aphrodite kept by her wildly beating heart.
There was a powerful crack, and the ceiling of the house tore open to the stars as Aphrodite's back arched and she cried out, her fingers clutching Gabrielle's at the place where they still slid relentlessly back and forth. A warm yellow glow overtook her unearthly form, and she hovered, ever so slightly, off the bed. Her toes curled into the sheets, and she began to laugh a rich, melodic laugh, splayed and shimmering in the darkness.
After a long exhale, her body returned to its original state, and the goddess groaned in exhaustion, gathering the bard delicately in her arms. Gabrielle sighed as well, their fingers lacing together as the salty ocean air flowed freely into the sky-lit room.
"Showoff," she murmured against Aphrodite's cheek. They giggled at this and, with no comparable response, the goddess began to reach for the comforter.
I have since sent my love home to hers.
Aphrodite had spent many long hours by the sea, quill and parchment in hand, her eyes slipping in and out of focus as she gazed longingly at the shoreline.
But do not weep for me, dear reader. It was I who let her go.
As the last few words were etched into the fibers, she popped back into her bedroom, laying the scroll across the desk. Tielas still had a milkmaid to court, she thought, her fingers drumming on her lips. A clever plan curled neatly around her smile, and she vanished purposefully into the sunlight once more.
There is only room enough for one of me in the universe, and as I know far better than any other, for every soul, there must be a match. An equal. For lifetimes before, and for many after, she has already found hers. It does not sadden me any longer. My place is here, among the shells and waves, far away from the bedlam of mortal occupation. To interfere would be to rob her of my gift, the one thing we still have left to share. I have no doubt there will be many more moments I will spend by her side.
As long as she carries love with her, so shall she carry me. So shall I thrive and decorate her thoughts with wonder.
I have found comfort in this. And perhaps, one day, I will find peace.