I do not own Xena: Warrior Princess – I merely write about it.

Summary: Let me start by saying that this is indeed an AU story, so keep that in mind when reading, as characters may differ slightly to what is normal. This is simply my take on the beginning of season one – what if Xena wasn't haunted by her past sins and hadn't met Gabrielle in her…Lets say, weakened mental state. Instead she is a successful warlord. Gabrielle is just another captive to Xena, beholding information the warlord wants, although when the young bard finds her strength in words, emotions collide and attitudes clash. Xena is capable of slaughter – but is she capable of love?

Authors Note: Again, just to sound like a broken record I state that this is slight AU and will in later chapters have reference to two women being together, eventually this relationship will be part of the story, so if you do not wish to read further, please click away from this page. For those of you who are still here, please, read…and going out on a limb here…enjoy :)


By my blood does the night end, tragic in its loss, so pure in defeat I shall fall.

By the whispered words she utters, crimson liquid thick upon my skin…

Hell hath frozen, should I dare sleep – awake I'll be, for she stands so tall.

Her hand in mine, could I not live – begging, please let me win…

Bitter mist does lie upon, numbing my every thought.

Sheer tears spill, hers or mine? Hot drops of pain,

In her watchful eyes, my own comfort will be sought…

For it's by my blood the night ends, heaven shall rain.

Her breaths rasped loudly against wind chilled lips, the cold evening air traveling down her throat with rapid speed as she quickened her footfalls, lungs panged for the oxygen that without her knowing wasn't being accepted – it was her adrenaline that kept her blind to the need for a substantial intake of air, her adrenaline that saw the bard ignoring the pain that came from miles of running, legs screaming for her to stop, fear pushing her on.

The sound of soldiers behind her pulled her into a reality that until momentarily hadn't hit her, she couldn't out run these men forever – they'd catch up, catch her. With a hitching breath she glanced a look behind her, blonde hair whipping at her crimson cheeks. They were gaining and for a moment Gabrielle wanted to cry, wished she had the energy to spill hot liquid tears into the cold evening air – if only to express the range of emotions she was feeling. With a suppressed yet hearable sob she swiftly jumped over a long ago fallen tree, the pain in her legs vengefully grasping her, testing what little tolerance was left.

She was slowing; she cursed whatever God came to mind and again dared a glance back. Nothing to Gabrielle's eyes pleased her as the clanging of swords being drawn and sordid smirks upon the men's features faced her, it was something Gabrielle would relate a nightmare too. Although in her nightmares she'd always wake up, this one she thought despondently wasn't of that kind.

The thought of stopping briefly grabbed hold of the young woman, so strongly it was that her legs cramped in agreement and she found her body responding with the mere idea, 'though just as she felt the rising stillness that came with sudden lack of movement her upper arm was grasped firmly…gently she noted, but firm enough to pull her along with them.

"Perdicus…!" She stammered out, air still not fulfilling her lungs wishes.

Without words the young man nodded and Gabrielle found herself feeling the warm sting of tears, a burden alone was it that there was a whole army of men chasing her, but the thought of the few bravely spoken villagers that had stood by her also being hunted made the bard become overwhelmed with guilt.

Not rare was it for soldiers of an army to raid Potadeia for their lute and supplies, in fact quite often the village elders would arrange for certain farmers to spare food for the men, thinking that they'd simply come and go in peace. They never did, too many times an innocent villager would be singled out and used as entertainment for the soldiers. Made to dance or simply beaten for their sick pleasure – it was different this time, the army went too far, blood was shed and Potadeia became another burning village some warlord would add to his achievements.

Few people stood against the armies advances, Gabrielle was one, and Perdicus just as passionate as her had sheathed a sword, 'though he'd no experience with such a weapon he had fought with the heart of a king. To run Gabrielle knew would be a sign of defeat; she also knew that by staying she would end up at the end of a blade…

Still feeling the reassuring grip of Perdicus, Gabrielle forced herself to keep moving. So ailing was it that her town was being chased and hunted, a mere slip into the animals that once represented the human race. Hearing the thud of hooves against hardened clay dirt the bard looked back, regretting such an action when she lost track of her movements – soft leather shoes caught jarringly in the foliage of the forest soil, bringing her painfully to the ground in a candle flick. Hands smashing against the slightly damp leaves, as golden hair hid wind whipped cheeks.

For a moment Gabrielle heard only that of her own heart beating, straining from the running, the adrenaline and fear. Although as her pulse quieted from her ears she could hear that of Perdicus pleading with her to stand up, his strong hands clutching her arm.

"Come on, Gabrielle!" He yelled, not out of anger, maybe not even fear – desperation would be the likely answer.

"Perdicus…" Gabrielle merely whispered the insufferable pain of her muscles revenge gripped her every nerve.

Crouching next to her, Perdicus gently pushed back her hair, his eyes explained everything – why Gabrielle had a searing hot pain across her temple and why scarlet drops tracked their way down her soft skin. Although hardly registering that during the fall she had hit her head, the inexcusable side effects saw that the bard now knew all too well. Feeling the watchful eye of Perdicus she tried to stand, an unwell feeling of sudden nausea gripped her and to Gabrielle's distaste didn't let go…The sound of her heart thumping painfully filled her ears and the darkish evening decided it would so much like to get darker – the shadows that danced on Gabrielle's consciousness teased her in an almost welcoming way, like the pull of the Sirens song on lost sailors…known to be only a bad thing, yet oh so hard to ignore. Maybe, Gabrielle thought, it wasn't such a bad thing – maybe, just maybe the shadows that covered her vision were something from the Illusia fields.


The heaviness that clouded her head seemed to get worse as Gabrielle became more conscious, well aware that she had not woken up in green pastures or heard the sweet music of the Illusia fields she groaned lowly, her voice thick with the lack of use. Moving her hand slowly in the direction her forehead she felt the damp stone ground that lay beneath her limp body, she didn't need to open her eyes to know that wherever she was it was dark. Clutching her head the bard slowly attempted to sit upright, jarring pain captured her every muscle although the need to see her surroundings played more greatly upon her mind.

Blinking a few times to adjust to the shadows, Gabrielle noted a solid door was the only use of entrance – for her, exit. No windows graced the small stone room, just rusty chains that seemed to distort in the darkness. Representing tales of summers past, probably holding innocent people till their deaths. The smell of damp moss was overpowering, thick in the stale air. Shaking her head slightly Gabrielle forced those thoughts from her mind, jumping steadily when the sound of scraping metal and locks releasing filled the enclosed prison, the door swung open a moment later and dimmed light flooded the room.

"Leave us!" A strong voice ordered, and Gabrielle caught sight through narrowed eyes the boots of two men departing, a sudden pit in her stomach presented itself as the darkly dressed figure crouched down to her level. "What's your name?"

She didn't answer, not trusting her voice in the slightest.

There was a moment of heavy silence before a slow sigh hit the damp atmosphere, it sounded light and Gabrielle looked up at the figure, shock filling her body as she laid eyes upon a dark haired women – strong in her features, with eyes as blue as the seas., Gabrielle thought perhaps even deeper than the ocean itself.

"If you don't tell me your name, then what shall I call you?" Asked the woman and Gabrielle noted the change in tone, this was less intimidating.

Pausing slightly Gabrielle answered her voice low and raspy. "Gabrielle…"

The woman seemed pleased to know and was quick to nod her thanks; shifting on her knees she hardened her gaze.

"Tell me, does it hurt?"

For a moment Gabrielle hadn't a clue as to what the woman meant, although noticing her eyes lingered upon her forehead she quickly came to her senses. Until mentioned her head had not actually giving her much in the way of soreness, the occasional throb had been present but nothing that really registered as pain. Now however, as law would have it a deep seeded ache decided to act up. Realizing she hadn't answered the question the blonde quickly shook her head, admitting pain to the enemy was not on her list of things to do…what was would be to escape…That alone was number one, listed atop and noted as urgent.

Pursing her lips and looking to be in thought for a moment the dark haired woman nodded. "Either way, I'd much prefer to have the wound cleaned, it'll help stop infection."

Slightly confused by the seemingly kind disposition the woman before her was showing, Gabrielle merely looked to the ground.

"I'll have a few men from the barracks come collect you later on, for now get some rest." The woman's voice seemed sterner this time and Gabrielle watched as she stood with superiority from the damp ground, although wishing she had the mirth to laugh at such a suggestion of getting any rest in the cold cell before her, she merely looked away from the piercing azure eyes and listened to the profound footsteps leave as the door was seemingly hurled shut.

Running her fingers over the dried crimson blood that clung to her temple she sighed quietly, holding back the lash of tears that spontaneously sprung to her eyes, the thought of what had happened to Perdicus and the other villagers making the feat evening more harder.