Mixing with Mortals
Disclaimer: All characters from Xena: Warrior Princess and Hercules: The Legendary Journeys do not belong to me; they belong to MCA/Universal Studios. I own nothing. Please don't sue me. I promise to return all borrowed characters in roughly the same condition that I found them in.
Author's note: This came about because I kept hearing this nagging little voice complaining about bits and pieces of Amphipolis under Siege in the back of my head. I know rewrites of this episode are overdone, but I couldn't help myself. I think my reading so much of the Shipper Seasons lately also has something to do with this story's genesis. It's their fault. Anyway, this is the episode (with some nods to Eternal Bonds and Seeds of Faith) told from Ares' perspective (as I see it) in a complaining kind of mood. Enjoy!
She always blames me. I should be used to it by now. Comes of mixing with mortals: when they see you too often, they think of you as a person in their lives, not a force to be reckoned with or an entity to be worshipped. Most of the other gods don't understand that. Athena certainly doesn't. They don't spend as much time on earth as I do.
I'm listening to her now. She whispers my name harshly, and the tone of her call almost makes me forget the battle—almost. But what a battle! Oh, it was just a little skirmish really; the men guarding the road were no match for Athena's archers. But seeing Xena back in business, in her real armor instead of that scruffy fur thing she must have scrounged from someone else's saddlebag, made my heart leap. Most of the tell-tale traces of pregnancy are gone from her body, but I did notice that some of her movements are stiff, awkward; her flip wasn't as effortless as it used to be. Pregnancy doesn't become mortals. It doesn't really become gods, either. I remember 'Dite, stomach swollen and ridged like a pumpkin, asking me to bring her back some kind of sauce from Chin while she was carrying Cupid (was that three hundred years ago already?). Then I get a vision of what Hera would look like pregnant and feel a strange desire to laugh and heave at the same time.
I decide that I won't let Xena's accusation stand. I appear, and say as noncommittally as possible, "Hey, Xena. Have a change of heart?" She glares at me and I almost smile. "Well, my offer still stands. I'm willing to protect you and your child—at no small amount of personal risk, I might add." Ah, yes. The new round of our long-standing game begins.
"And what if I decline?" she asks. It's exactly what I expect. "You ransack my home town? Hold my mother hostage 'til I agree?"
See? I get blamed for everything. Besides, I've never used her mother against her before. Who does she think I am, Callisto? But she's not just blaming me for this situation; she's thinking back to when I set the three armies on her trail. She's still mad at me about that, I can tell. The part of me that understands humans also understands her anger. But my nerves thrum tightly at the thought of accepting blame. I'm a god, damn it, and my life's at stake. What did she expect me to do—sit back and do nothing while more gods drop dead because of her brat? My family never would have let me get away with it. She's lucky it was me that sent the armies after her. If Athena had planned that little stunt, she wouldn't have bothered with any deals to save the baby, no matter how outrageous the terms. And Xena would almost certainly be dead…
"You've got the wrong god," I return, pleased that she's making all the proper moves in the game so far. "There's another who deals in mortal blood." As she rips the arrow out of the highwayman's chest, I confirm what I know she'll find. "Like all the gods, she knows your bundle of joy portends to the demise of the Olympians."
"Athena," she breathes. I smirk while she's not looking. Let's see how Xena deals with a god that has limited experience walking among humans. Athena won't accept Xena's censure. She doesn't know how to talk to mortals on their own turf. I wonder, briefly, if that makes my sister stronger or better than me. Then I flash out.
§
Olympus isn't the same since Zeus and Hera died. I guess that goes without saying. Sis took over their old quarters; she considers herself the queen of the gods, though she didn't ask any of us what we thought about that. In a way I approve. Power is for the taking, not the asking. I might have made a power grab myself, except that it could compromise my position in this war. Everyone gives Athena the credit for strategy, but I'm not exactly stupid in that department. I have no desire to lead the attack on Xena or her angelic spawn. If I'd taken command—and taken that commission seriously—Xena, her sidekick and the baby would be feeding the worms by now. I don't want that to happen.
Oh, the baby and the sidekick are expendable—maybe. But I meant what I said in Tartarus. (Just don't ever make me say it again.) Love and war don't dance. I used to think that I'd already killed off all the emotions that interfere with my job, but apparently—well, I haven't. But love is too dangerous. Too tangled with other feelings that could snare my focus, my self-control. 'Dite keeps wanting to talk to me about it, but I've just been shutting her out. It's easier. If my position in this war is complicated, hers might be even worse. How can Love go to war on mortals? She knows how to hurt their hearts—I know that she's caused more than one tragic suicide—but she has no conception of what it's like to hunt them, cut them up, make them bleed, make them hate you down to their core selves. I do. So does Athena. But Athena doesn't have to worry about her emotions betraying her.
I rest on my throne and open a viewing portal on the road outside Amphipolis. Athena's armies are moving along it. I see her heal a cut on the face of one of her warriors, a look like tenderness in her eyes, and I rest my chin in my hand. Maybe Athena has been mixing with mortals more lately. Maybe she understands them better than I give her credit for. And maybe she and I share a problem. I suppose I should go say hi.
§
Sis and her gal pal are standing around one of those little dioramas when I arrive. A brief childhood memory of blowing up one of those stupid things goes through my head—Athena always liked her toys, and I always liked wrecking them. "Who was it that said that an army is a terrible thing to waste?" I ask, strolling up and leaning on the edges of the diorama. "I think it was me."
Then I go through the roll call of Athena's army with a sneer—those Egyptians always did have flexible loyalties. I think it comes from cat-worship. Cats are fickle creatures; why should their servants be any different? She's assembled an impressive force; I'll grant her that. I pull my eyes away from the glittering armies and direct my full attention to Athena's diorama. It's a fair setup, though her spread pattern leaves the hills to the east open. If Xena wanted to escape, she could easily slip through the lines. I move some of the little pieces in, advising Athena to tighten her grip on the village. It's what I would have done, had I been in charge.
A hand catches mine, but it isn't my sister's. It's her little pet's. "Athena," she growls, "doesn't need your help."
"Nor any man's, it would seem."
A brief flash of irritation passes over my sister's typically calm features. I annoy her just by being here. "Why are you here, brother?"
I consider my options. Honesty is rarely the best policy when it comes to my family. And to be honest, she annoys me, too. "My survival is at stake, too," I say, not very convincingly. "The child must die."
She knows I'm lying—she always knows when I'm lying—and her little laugh stings me a bit. "Rumor has it that you made Xena an offer to spare the child—if she gave you one of her own." I shrug this off more easily than her scorn. It's not like I haven't made duplicitous deals before.
"Rumor has it that she turned you down," Athena's girl says. Ilainus is her name, I think. I smirk at the girl and shake my head. Her armor is ridiculous. Sis always did have a thing for silver. Gold, too, even though it's a bloody soft metal. I guess she figures if she strategizes well enough, no one will get close enough to hit her? I glance at the girl again and have to restrain an impending chuckle. Silver eye makeup? Athena has herself a painted whore. And any uniform that leaves the breastbone so exposed also leaves room for attacks on the heart; I just don't think that's practical for armor. Even Xena protects her chest. I smile as I let my thoughts wander in that direction, but Athena's venomous tone brings me back to reality.
"This is not one of your little games to try and make Xena your plaything," Athena says brusquely. "Zeus is dead, Ares. Our father." Well, Athena doesn't have a mother, so I guess it makes sense she'd be that much more attached to Zeus. Of course, I've lost both my parents. Odd feeling, that. But they'd ignored me for so long before their deaths that sometimes I do forget that they're gone.
She babbles on about a prophecy—perhaps I should take this more seriously, but I've never put much stock in prophecy. Dahak thought he was fated to rule the world. Zeus thought it was the humans' destiny to be ruled by him. So much of destiny seems like power-hungry hubris. I ask Athena why she hasn't attacked yet. The longer she gives Xena to prepare, the harder Xena will be to defeat. She babbles again, this time about loyalty and protection, and I wonder if she understands humans as well as I thought. Most gods can't get away with killing children, let alone babies. I took flack for the virgin sacrifice thing for centuries, and I'm known for being liberal with the fireballs. Athena has a reputation for level-headedness, but that will go out the window as soon as Eve is dead. I know this. I don't think she does.
Must be nice to be Athena, I think. Even when you're wrong, you can convince yourself you're right. Then I shuffle uncomfortably. That philosophy is too close to the one I've adopted as a god. But even though I may do the wrong thing—again, and again, and again—I understand the consequences of what I do. There's a reason my parents disowned me—a significant part of me wanted them to.
"Give them time," my sister says, still expounding her naïve view of mortal worship. "They'll deliver up the child. Without the need to spill blood."
Hm. I guess my sister has no idea how convincing Xena can be. This is her home village. I'd be shocked if they turned against her now.i "Perhaps," I say after a moment, "but where's the fun in that?" I flash out, leaving her with that little annoyed expression on her face again.
I can't talk to her. Maybe I really should try 'Dite.
§
Some time later, Athena appears in front of me in a shower of gold sparks tinged with red, and I know she's pissed. "So," I say, stretching on my throne to irritate her even further, "I take it the negotiation went well?"
"You—" she barks, almost coughs. "You knew this would happen. How?"
I shrug. "I know Xena."
"If that's true," Athena says in that low, calm tone she uses when talking at spooked horses, "you should be able to get her out of the way."
Her calm voice scares me far more than her anger. "Thought you didn't need my help."
"And I thought you said 'the child must die.'"
I look at her, eyes wide. She doesn't usually try to hold me to my lies. "There are plenty of ways to kill it," I say slowly.
"Like what?"
I get up and open a viewing portal on Amphipolis. I hear a clap of thunder without the matching reverberation; we're too far from the storm for us to feel it. Rainwater moves sluggishly across the rooftops. I point.
"Ah," says Athena, flashing out.
"You're welcome," I mutter as she leaves.
I should probably warn Xena that Athena's going to poison the water…nah. She wouldn't believe me. Besides, if she lets herself be incapacitated by something like that, then maybe we deserve to win.
We, I think to myself. The gods. Against them—humans. This shouldn't be a fight—not really—but it is, somehow. I go back to my throne, stretch, and think about war.
§
I check in on Xena and Amphipolis a little later. No one seems to be dying of poison—maybe sis didn't mess with the water yet. I see signs of the peasants gearing up for battle. Xena isn't in the village—she's probably off executing one of her patented plans. Her sidekick organizes the attack instead. I look her over critically. A few years ago, she paid me no service at all. Now she's a warrior, no matter how conflicted she feels about that—and I have to admit that her plan of attack is bold. Risky, even. But it might work—especially if Xena's backing her up from behind, or below. Gabrielle will never be Xena, but I never thought I'd be compelled to pay attention to her.
I watch her shout for Greek fire, charging past the walls; when an opponent knocks her weapon out of her hands, she feels around for a new one, using her fists when there are no bludgeons handy. The peasants around her aren't as resourceful, but they're desperate. They can't win, not when they're so outnumbered, but they're definitely doing damage.
I expand my viewing portal outward in order to get a glimpse of Athena, calm and collected in the middle of the battle. Her girlfriend is with her again. I shake my head sadly. Sis never did like the fun stuff. I'm itching to go fight myself, but I'm not quite sure which side I should fight on. It's a common problem for me, especially when opponents are almost evenly matched. Usually, I flip a coin, or ask Fortuna if I'm feeling peckish. I can't do either in this situation—so I just watch.
When the battlefield is split in half by an explosion, I smile and praise Xena inwardly. Then I notice that the explosion did just as much damage to her side as Athena's. Men reel back and clutch their ears, experiencing concussion deafness; many people fall inside the hole in the earth. Xena comes up, and she and Gabrielle lead the battered remnant of their forces back to the village.
Huh. We might win after all.
Why do I feel so bad about that?
§
When Xena calls me to my temple in Amphipolis a little later on in the day, I'm not surprised. For a few moments, I stay where I am, watching her from a distance. I probably shouldn't answer. Athena's dealing with this situation, and she won't thank me for interfering. But interfering with Athena's plans is almost as fun as breaking her toys, so I don't keep Xena waiting for very long.
I appear, and I can't resist ribbing Xena a little bit. "Ow," I say. "Athena is beatin' you like a dog out there. Put a poultice on it; it's gotta sting."
She swallows and says, "Thanks." Her voice is tight, as if she's just bitten back a much harsher or wittier retort. I approach her cautiously. She's not fighting me—and she asked me here. I suspect she wants help, but she knows I can't give it to her on her own terms. I also expect Xena to yell at me, hit me, vent some of her frustration. Like I said before, I understand her anger. I give her an opening: "Hey, don't feel bad. After all, you're fighting the goddess of wisdom and warfare."
"Don't forget weaving."
Her retort is slightly bitter, but she she's not showing any rage toward me. "So," I say, prompting her to ask what she's come here for. Her behavior is strange so far. I prefer her contentious to conciliatory—or conspiratorial.
She steps forward, eyes lowered in token of surrender, and I nearly step backward. "Ares," I say. "I believe we discussed a deal." Her mouth twists in disgust as she speaks.
"Deal?" Teasing her is too fun. "Deal, deal, deal, deal—I don't know. Did we?"
"Cut the crap," she returns, some of her old contentiousness in her tone. Her eyes lift to mine. They're wet around the edges, as if she's going to cry. "I'm ready to bargain."
Yeah, right. And Aphrodite's a Hestian virgin.
"You fight beside me," she says, not missing a beat, "and we can defeat Athena."
"Maybe we can," I say noncommittally. "Of course, if I side with you against my sister, then I become a pariah on Olympus. So by helping you, my own fate is sealed. Oh, I'm still interested,"—always, I can't help it, wish I could—"I just wanna know—what's in it for me?"
To my astonishment, she steps closer to me and lays her hand on my chest. "What's in it for you," she says. It's not a question. "Me." I feel my face twitch and pull away slightly. She lifts her finger toward my chin and continues, "You help me defeat Athena, and I'm yours."
"You're mine." I say this possessively enough, but I hear hesitation in my own voice. I know there's something wrong about this. It feels familiar, like the dream I entered during that business with the three armies. I swallow. In the dream, she didn't resist me. Does she expect me to resist her? I want to give in—I'm passion, bloodlust, impulse—but I'm also war, conflict and battle. She's not going to win me this way, not without fighting. It's not right.
She's offering herself to me on a plate, and I don't like it. I love her, but not in the mushy mortal way her pesky little friend loves her and clings to her. I love her, at least in part, because she fights me. Because we fight one another. That's our way. And she's breaking the rules. To be fair, I break the rules all the time. But she's not supposed to. It's not part of the game.
"I'm offering you everything you ever wanted," she says. "Take it."
Then her mouth is moving closer, her lips brushing mine ever so gently, and I remember the dream again. Using my own tactics against me, Xena? I open my mouth to her kiss and press into her, feeling her hand grip my neck and hair to pull me closer, hearing her little moan and a sharp intake of breath, and I wonder, briefly, if her offer to give herself to me is genuine.
Then I remember that this is an offer and that she's broken the unwritten rules of our long-standing game, and I push her away. "No," I say, and am somewhat gratified when my voice doesn't shake. "No, you don't."
"What?" she gasps, nearly spits, and I can't decide whether to feel stupid or hurt.
I decide on hurt. "You're up to something. I have desired you from the very first moment I saw you in battle—And now? After all these years, after all these games, the cat and the mouse, will-I-won't-I—'Ares, I'm yours, take me.' Well, I'm sorry, it's too easy." And it is. It's wrong. I propose the deals. She's not allowed.
While I speak, her mouth opens and shuts like a fish's; she wants to say something. Maybe she wants to kiss me again, I don't know. But I don't want her like this.
"I am offering you a deal," she says, trying to salvage this situation. "And I don't go back on my promises."
I approach her, letting a little godly menace seep into my stance. The distance between us now is as great as if she'd never kissed me, never touched me. "No, no, you don't. But you always come up with some way to mess with my head." I walk away and vanish into the ether, proud, for a moment, that I managed to keep my head. Xena's not the only one that can resist temptation.
But I'm also upset with myself. I'm letting her manipulate me. I even know why I'm doing it. But that doesn't make me feel any better.
On Olympus, I open a viewing portal on Amphipolis again, but deliberately avoid looking at the area around my temple. I'm a god. We're at war. The siege goes on.
I decide to check up on sis.
§
I flash into Amphipolis, but while tracking down Athena I hear Gabrielle's voice in the distance, putting down dissension of some sort. I didn't even set Strife and Discord on this town. Morale must be pretty terrible. I grin despite myself and move toward the sidekick's voice.
"We're fighting for our right to be treated as human beings, not game pieces," I hear clearly, and stop where I am, just out of her range of vision. When she calls for me after her speech, I remain still. Xena can call me all she wants. The blonde is usually an annoying brat. But her conviction for fighting seeps into me. And the feeling of being used as a game piece in my own game, by Xena—well, it's too fresh.
I appear to the bard, but can't help letting some of my tension show. "Well, aren't I Mr. Popular," I say.
"I'm not here to play games," she says, staring me down, and her choice of words almost makes me flinch. "I know that Xena made an offer to you."
I shrug a little. "You're telling the story."
"If you lay a hand on her, I sw—"
"What?" I cut her off. Mortals. They're so cute when they threaten. "You'll do—what?"
"If you accept, you will destroy Xena. You will turn her into exactly what she used to be, a vicious killer!"
"Yeah, well, I kinda liked that Xena," I say. It's true; I do. One of the curses of being a god is that you never forget anything. I remember all her conquests as if they just happened, but the replay value on memories degrades with time. New conquests, new thrills—that's what I want. Actually, it's just part of what I want, but—
"Did you? Then why are you so obsessed with who she is now?" the bard asks, and for a moment I stand there silent, wondering if she can read my mind or if I've become so much like humans that she doesn't need to. "Tell me you don't feel anything for the real Xena, the good Xena," she says after a moment. "Ares, if you make her do this, she will never love you."
There's that horrible word again. Even in the temple, Xena never promised love. But sometimes, you can't have everything. Even I admit that. "Do you think she'd really give herself to me to save Eve?" I ask after a moment.
"Has she ever said anything she doesn't mean?"
I look at her for a moment and smile. So I can't have everything. The situation still has its advantages.
"Thank you," I say without fully meaning it. If I go through with this, I'm agreeing to be part of Xena's game. The blond is just reinforcing what I'll get out of it. Fine by me.
"Don't do it," she whispers to me, almost like she knows my secrets.
Yeah, right. I look at her, sighing while thinking about things that would make her stab me if she really could read my mind. Then I disappear, seeking Athena in the ether.
§
"So, sis," I say, walking up to her, "how goes the siege?"
"I'm about to start catapulting dead cows into the village."
"And a classic it is!" Rotting meat? She still hasn't used my poison-the-water plan, has she? "But as much as I love the smell of rotting cow carcass in the morning—have you considered there might be another way to break the stalemate?"
She leans toward me and says, "Hm?" but I see the agitation in her eyes. She's not going to listen to me—I'll have to make her.
"I might be able to convince Xena to leave our realm—to take Eve where she can do no harm." If nothing else, this arrangement would allow me to seize control of our game again. I wanted that—wanted things to go back to normal.
Athena laughs—as expected. "And where would that be? You're thinking with your codpiece again, brother." I wish that was all I was thinking with. "Do you really think Xena will be yours if you can save the child?"
She pushes past me and I follow her, grab her, determined to make her listen to me, make her see me. "Have you considered that maybe this prophecy is fulfilling itself? Think about it. What can Xena's baby do to us, really? Yet the more we fight amongst ourselves about the future of this one tiny child, the more vulnerable we become."
"Because of this one tiny child," she shoots back, her eyes at last coming into focus on me, "Zeus is already dead."
"If he'd left well enough alone, Hercules wouldn't have killed him." Me, defending Hercules. That's not something I thought I'd ever do.
"And what if you're wrong, Ares? Is it worth the risk for one child—or one woman?" She tilts her head in vague imitation of one of our father's mannerisms and says, in a tone that brooks no argument, "There will be no compromise."
I flash out, back to my temple in town. I need to think—and vent. I appear in front of my altar and use it as a punching bag for a few moments, but I don't feel better. I consider fireblasting the damned thing when I notice Xena's gauntlets and armor and—other clothing—on the floor. I swallow deliberately and pick up her breastplate. Surely she's not—?
But she is, and I almost have to bite back a laugh. So I was right. Her offer is genuine this time. I pick up the wine goblet she's prepared and am just getting ready to drink it when she speaks. "Hello, Ares."
She's on a low couch in the corner near the window. The fur she's wearing slips and slides across her body as she stands. Such a tease, I think. But maybe this time it's different—?
"Thought I might find you here," she says after a moment.
"Oh, yeah." I grip the wine goblet harder and drink half the liquid in the cup at one gulp.
"So," Xena says, "are we going to seal this deal, or what?"
"Sounds like a plan." I drain the rest of the wine from the goblet and toss it aside. Still, something in the back of my mind makes me hesitate. This feels too much like a trap. I remember my conversation with Gabrielle. While Xena approaches me and drops the fur stole to her waist, I remain standing where I am—
But only for a second. Then I walk toward her, unbuckling my swordbelt as I move. I am leaning in, about to kiss her, when her palm lands on my shoulder with a heavy thud. "One thing," she says. "Can I trust you to keep you end of the bargain?"
"Yeah, sure." Athena accused me of thinking with my codpiece. Right now, it's hard not to. I know this is entrapment, but for the moment, I don't mind. This is so strange: she hasn't just broken the rules, she's reinvented the game. Leave it to her to find a way to do that. All these years of chasing her, and she's finally chasing me—with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, I'll admit, but my plans haven't always been subtle. Usually not, in fact. But the part of me that can still think clearly through my wildly thumping heartbeats insists that this new game won't be one I'll win.
Ah, well. I haven't won—really, really won—for a long time now. Xena and my pesky half-brother have turned me into a punching bag more than once—Xena because I let her; Hercules because I had no choice. I have a choice now. I can walk away and seize control of the old, familiar game. Or I can wait and see what she's up to.
My curiosity will kill me someday.
I lean in, ready to give in to her now, and she pushes me back. "I don't want there to be any—confusion," she says.
"No, no confusion. I side with you against gods, save Eve—gotcha."
"Excellent."
She throws me across the room, and I get a glimpse of her naked breasts before she crashes on top of me. If I were mortal that might have hurt, but it doesn't, not at all, and when she takes my nipple in her mouth I gasp at least as much in shock as arousal. I always like to believe she wants me, of course, but I never knew she wanted me this much—not outside the safe space of fantasies and dreams. This is real, and it feels fantastic.
She kisses me again and I respond, pushing my tongue in her mouth as her hands explore my lower body. My arms wrap around her, but I don't pull her down, deciding to keep my touch light so that she can retain control. For moments that seem like ages, our lips become one burning mouth, and I can't hold back anymore. I'm about to tighten my grip on her when she pulls up. "Uh, do you hear something?" she asks.
I make a point of pretending to listen. "No."
She kisses me again, her mouth open, her tongue eager and moving against mine, before pulling back a second time. "No, no, no—I heard fighting."
"Perfect," I say, grinning. She's trying to distract me. I know it, but she hasn't stopped this yet, so I'm going to draw it out as far as possible. "Now—where were we?"
She kisses me yet again, pressing into me further and I hear another moan as my tongue moves against hers. Then a loud bang comes from the left—but neither she nor I move to break our kiss. Someone asks, "You all right?" and Xena pushes up and away from to stare at an all-too-familiar woman with reddish hair carrying a baby.
"Mom?!" Xena breathes. She looks between me and her mother, then shoves herself away from me almost violently. "This isn't what it looks like," she says.
"Yeah, it is," I say brightly, staring at Xena as she dresses, fighting the temptation to touch her again. You know, Xena's lucky I'm not a mortal man. This whole experience could have been mortifying, not simply embarrassing.
"Well, I suppose it could be—worse," Cyrene says, holding the baby's face away from us. "After all, he is a god." Excuse me, lady, I'm sitting right here. "Though I would've preferred Apollo—or maybe Hermes."
"Excuse me, Hermes?" I ask. "With the wings on the feet—"
"Xena," Cyrene says, still ignoring me. "Gabrielle has launched an attack on Athena's army."
Xena begins to dress more hastily, and I call "Wait" to slow her down. "What are you doing? I couldn't have planned this better myself. I promised to help you and your daughter. Now, if Gabrielle is attacking, she's providing the perfect cover."
"What are you saying?" Xena asks, adjusting the leather over her breasts.
"Leave her," I say. "Now. While Athena's distracted. Then I'll take you and your daughter someplace else."
"No," she says, fussing with her shoulder strap. She's having a hard time looking at me.
"You're making a mistake," I say almost gently. "I would have kept our bargain."
"I know you would've." Her eyes lock on mine for a second. "I've got to do this my way."
I watch her walk off with her mother in her loose-fitting armor. "What a surprise," I say, and I know exactly why I sound so devastated. I'll talk to 'Dite, I promise myself. As soon as I kick Athena's ass.
§
Athena and I cross swords above the baby's bundle. I shove her back, gaining the advantage temporarily as Xena calls for the villagers to attack. Out of the corner of my eye I see Xena fighting Ilainus; my distraction allows Athena to knock me on my ass. I get up and kick a barrel I landed on out of the way. Athena's tough, but I'm used to getting beaten up. A memory of hitting Hercules in the face with an iron mace drifts to the surface for a moment. Then I press the attack on Athena again—forgetting that she disarmed me. She punches me in the face then kicks me in the groin, sending me flying back again.
Xena's not fairing much better; Ilainus knocked her into the same barrels I hit before, and there's a sword at her neck. "What's the matter, bro?" sis asks, swaggering up to me and stopping in a pose I know she stole from me. "Worried about your girlfriend?"
"Me? No," I say, getting up from the ground. "Worried about yours?"
As Athena and I stand still, Xena runs the silver-eyed bitch through with her sword, and I hear sis' anguished cry: "Ilainus!"
Athena runs for her fallen warrior. Out of respect, I say nothing. I could have lost Xena today. It wasn't highly probable, but still. I keep at a little distance, seeing the moment when Ilainus dies in my sister's arms.
"Take a good look, Ares," Athena sobs. "We're next, all of us!" I shrug a little, not sure how she wants me to react. I've been on the firing line already with Dahak, and I've had two brushes with mortality. I've faced down Titans. If anyone's going to survive the coming war, it'll be me. Survival: it's what I do.
Athena disappears with Illainus' corpse, planting a kiss on her forehead as they vanish.
§
As Athena's armies retreat, I catch Xena's eye. I approach her as she picks up her bundle and finds Gabrielle, coming up just in time to hear Gabrielle ask, "Did you and Ares—?"
"No," Xena replies quickly, directing her attention to her bundle.
"Not yet," I qualify as I stride up. "Shall we conclude our transaction, Xena?"
She's smiling, a humorless enigmatic little smile, and she answers, "You know, it's really kind of you Ares, but I don't think I'm gonna have to take you up on your offer after all."
I know this round of the game is over, but I can't help but protest. "I saved your ch—"
She throws her bundle at me. I catch it and unwrap a hideous clay doll from the black fabric.
"You saved my dolly," she says.
I expected something like this, but I can't help the feeling of disappointment that settles over me, and for a moment I allow that feeling to overwhelm me. "Why do you continue to deny us?" I ask, almost wincing because I sound so weak, so whiny compared to her. I regain a bit more control and go on, "We had a deal. When we were fighting side-by-side, it was like we were one. Back there in the temple," I see her drop her eyes, "can you tell me you didn't feel anything?"
"I felt nothing," she returns, and my disappointment jumps from my chest and out of my throat. I know she's lying. C'mon, I know her—better even than she thinks I do. For second, I almost let her see how happy I am; then I decide to let her think she's won. Even the bard's little smirk doesn't deflate my joy. Yes. This is more like the Xena I remember. I almost forgive her for teasing me earlier…but not quite. The little bard is right there, so I can't help but do a little teasing of my own.
"This isn't finished," I say, letting a little bit of genuine worry seep into my voice. "As long as your child lives, they'll keep coming. And then you're gonna have to come to me for help…"
I flash out. She slumps a little when she feels me leave, and a little smile comes unbidden to my face. I keep watching her from Olympus through a viewing portal as she banters with the little blond bard, and my smile becomes a chuckle. Mortals. They think they can hide stuff from us. Right.
Maybe I've become too human for my own good. This love thing definitely sucks more often than not. But, damn, today was fun.
I sigh, close the viewing portal and get to work. It won't be easy keeping the other gods off her trail. Fortunately, the other gods don't know mortals like I do—except maybe 'Dite. She spends almost as much time with them—and she likes the little bard for some reason. I did promise myself I'd talk to her. I think she'll help me.
What can I say? Killing babies isn't sporting.
Athena flashes in, and I let my smile and all thoughts of work collapse. Her eyes are blurry and pink around the edges. She surveys me critically for a moment, then walks to the far side of the room and settles herself into my throne. It's going to be a long war.
THE END
Disclaimer: Amphipolis' water supply was never actually poisoned during the production of this motion picture. What's up with that?
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i Note 1: Amphipolis did turn against Xena in Sins of the Past. This is meant to be ironic.