***Disclaimer- I don't own Xena or characters. Tired of waiting for a movie, I'm writing my own version of what I think should happen, something that I'm trying to keep true to the spirit of the Xena series, though I am an Ares fan (I will try to use these relationships as a poeticism) It may be slow writing as I'm educating myself on the history and culture as I go.***
Intro
A thousand years had passed, the world turned on. The greek gods which survived Xena's blade, moved into the Roman
pantheon and took on new names. Their time passed too as the One God spread through the lands. They were adrift, searching
where they were being called, across the globe, new names. Apollo trekked to Jappa and held the morning light, and there was
called Amaterasu. Hermes spread himself out, blending into all transitions and boundaries, not being seen where he's been, but
always known. A trickster and friend of human kind, he stayed around men and contributed to their civilizations. He
understood that as long as he benefited man kind in useful ways he would always succeed, always seating himself in man's
unconscious. Sometimes he appeared to them as a snake, his earliest form. Even tricking people far into the future giving them
his sworn protection in life and death in their places of healing under his ancient symbol, which people erroneously
confused for another they had intended and had used. Aphrodite and Ares moved on too, trekking the furthest of any of the
other Gods. They headed through Africa, before crossing the ocean solemnly.
One thousand years or more. They had changed. Ares never found a warrior again that moved his soul to flames, and so made
up for his discontent with his growing intensity. He was dead set, on hearing the war song, which could drown the heart;
passion and will rising above all, could make the heart beat louder yet. This extreme, which secretly wished to bury a tender
song of love but never could extinguish it…only hid it beneath sound, appearance and habit. The imbalance between them
grew, their connection firm but one sided. Aphrodite was pale and tired, her eyes set with hope and love, determination and
mercy. Like a flower on a battle field amidst a sea of blood. Ares would always look out for his sister, but this change in him was
set.
Gabrielle and Xena; the poet and the warrior while being mortal, were not talked of, and not forgotten.
They were legends, the closest thing to God-hood a mortal could mount, for they lived on.
In stories and in the hearts of all who knew their tales and of their virtues. They went on affecting the lives which the very idea
of them touched. For man, and for Gods.