The Storm That Brought You to Me

Disclaimer 1: Let me begin by saying that I do not own Xena or any of the characters from the show and this story is written only for the entertainment of myself and other readers. :]

Disclaimer 2: This story is an AU fic and does not necessarily follow the exact timeline or outcomes of events from the show. In going along with that, I also have made no attempt to hold to historical accuracy where the Romans or any other people are involved and as such some historical characters may appear in the same time period when they lived at the same time as others who lived a few or so years later or keep characters alive past the dates when they actually died. Some details of Roman life, the house Octavian is descended from, and such are represented as accurately as possible, but I have also taken artistic license with the story and liberties with the characters of Octavian, his wife, and his contemporaries. I have always loved history, but to me the story I am trying to tell is more important than trying to limit myself to historical boundaries just to be accurate. And since the series itself is set as a historical fantasy of sorts, I figure I have the creative license to get away with it. Everyone enjoy. :]

I. Secrets on Olympus

The torches lining the walls of the council chamber to the Gods were lit with eternal fire, their glow just becoming visible against the white marble ramparts as the sun sank beyond the horizon. When the sun disappeared completely, they became an orange glare coloring the veined walls and everything within them.

Athena entered the chamber and was the first of the Olympians to arrive. She wore a very practical shirt of scale armor, each of the small leaf-like pieces of iron having been struck into life on Hephaestus' anvil and sewn together with hair from the Furies. The shirt covered her entire torso and gave way to a short skirt of leather strips that ran over the red silk tunic beneath, both ending at about mid-thigh. As she walked, she supplemented her step with her spear, the butt of it clicking against the stone blocks along with the heels of her sandals. Her customary shield and helmet were not with her, but at any time she would have to but whisper and they would be at her disposal should she need them. Her dark hair was made up and only trickled casually down to the sides of her face in soft curls.

She stopped by one of the walls. Blue eyes stared into the veined marble, easily seeing the scenes lightly chiseled there by her father's nymphs, scenes depicting men being punished for their crimes against the gods, scenes of gods laying with mortals, scenes depicting the Titans being thrown into Tartarus for all eternity and her father's rise to rule the heavens with Hera and their brothers at his side. Scenes that could only be viewed by the nightly glow of the eternal flames, in the absence of the sun.

Beside them all was a depiction of something no mortal or immortal had had ever experienced. It showed Zeus and all of the Olympians being cast out of Olympus and no one taking their place.

"Disturbing isn't it?"

The voice hovered in the air before its owner appeared in the center of the room.

"To think that humans could possibly govern themselves. They're only a few steps up from animals."

"The Twilight of the Gods. It is a myth." Athena said, stepping back from the wall.

"It is now." Ares said, his voice low and dismal despite the fact that he should be feeling anything, but that way after all it had cost them to corner Xena, Gabrielle, and that troublesome little Eve to ensure their survival.

"Exactly." Athena continued running her hand over one of the sacred flames and watching as the fire curved to miss her, "We have made sure of that. Now, we have to make sure the mortals know we haven't gone anywhere."

"What do you propose to do?" Ares asked, curious.

"I propose we find a way to get our worshipers back, tenfold. If not the Greeks then some of their neighbors. The Thracians, the Romans. We must find a way to make them accept and worship all of us."

"The Romans are no problem. They have a new leader who prays to me regularly for military guidance. I'll have Rome wrapped around my little finger by the first snowfall." Ares smirked.

"Don't count on it just yet, little brother. After all, what is a little brute strength without strategy." Athena said, mirroring his expression and crossing her arms over her chest. "How do you think your little Roman prince came to be a favorite of Caesar in the first place, hm? It certainly had nothing to do with manly muscle on his part."

Ares snorted, "Whatever. Later, Sis."

With that he dissipated and was gone and Athena was left to her own meditations.

Yes, something had to be done about these strong willed mortals.

The city was surprisingly quiet. In the still of the evening, cool air had rolled down from the Alps enticing a thick fog into being at the waters of the Rubicon that hung like a silver curtain over the Roman countryside. It was through this curtain that Octavian and his troops returned to their beloved Rome.

The soldiers accompanied their master as far as the palace gates, where only the praetorian guard was permitted to escort the emperor inside. In the main courtyard, Octavian dismounted his horse. Livia Drusus, his third wife in such a short span of four years, stood on the steps, ready to receive him. Though the two of them were not in love, per se, they were very well suited to one another as political allies and soul mates in all things. Usually, most decisions in government were made with Livia's consent and even sometimes her input (secretly of course). As were all decisions in the imperial household, which was why the young dark haired woman was mildly confused when her husband took a blanketed bundle from one of his guards and approached her with it.

"My Lady." He inclined his head to her with a dashing smile as he ascended the steps.

"My Lord." She returned the greeting. Then, when he was close enough, Livia peeked into the folds of cloth he held only to see the face of a contently sleeping infant sucking on its thumb as it curled close to his breastplate. "And who is this?"

A shadow fell over Octavian's tan face and he averted his eyes to the infant in his arms, "This is Eve, the daughter of a dear late friend. We are her family now."

No more fuss was made on the matter as the two entered the house and seemed to go about their lives peacefully for a while. The baby was tucked away in a bassinet that had to be borrowed from the slave quarters until another one could be permanently acquired or made for her. Almost immediately, Octavian was called into a meeting with a few senators who had been anxiously awaiting his return. While he was away, Livia was left alone with the child.

At first, she had tried to ignore it by continuing on with her needlework the way a good Roman matron, by example, was expected to while the men were away, but like any hot blooded Roman woman….Livia got bored. Before she knew it, the young brunette's curiosity had gotten the better of her and she went to the office where the little girl was being sequestered in until they could decide upon a place for her. As a mother herself, she couldn't ignore that part of her more delicate nature was stirred by the sight of the baby laying so innocent and oblivious in her crib, but at the same time, her practical and political sensibilities were waving red flags in the back of her mind.

Any child not of royal blood who was adopted—as this girl might be should the emperor feel inclined to do so—into the imperial family, male or female, could be an immediate threat to the established heirs. Over the courses of his past two marriages before Livia, Octavian had produced only one surviving child, a daughter, Julia. Though Roman law dictated that a woman could hold no power by herself, the very fact that Octavian had produced a legitimate child whose own children could be counted as his heirs produced a threat towards Livia and her two sons from her previous marriage: Drusus and Tiberius, whom she was determined to see instated as powerful men in Rome, if not emperors.

Julia was already enough of a problem to contend with. Livia didn't need another vile ingredient thrown into the pot. Whatever was to happen, whatever her feelings for the child—if anything—might one day prove to be, one thing was certain: Livia couldn't allow her husband to adopt this Eve. There was just too much at risk. Especially if the girl turned out to be one of those vicious little social climbing trollips that seemed to be trying to worm their way into imperial good graces more and more these days. If Livia was lucky, but she could not convince Octavian to give up the child, perhaps, she might be able to convince him to arrange a marriage between the girl once she came of age and her younger son, Drusus. After all, then Livia would be able to keep an eye on the little witch before she could become a potential problem.

All of Livia's scheming though, was only a backup plan. She fully intended to do everything in her power to convince her divine husband that this Eve didn't belong in the imperial household. If anything, she should be adopted out to the family of a senator or one of Augustus' generals. Agrippa would be a perfect candidate. As Octavian's closest friend and brother-in-law, he would be able to keep the girl in check better than anyone else in the Rome.

Perhaps though…that wouldn't be necessary. Maybe there was a still a way she could turn this situation to her advantage…

Packing away her thoughts, Livia leaned over the crude bassinet; dark blue, almost violet eyes watching the movements of Eve's chest as it rose and fell in a soft, steady rhythm.

There was a way she might be able to save face and let the girl live without further endangering her position at Augustus' side as well as the well being of her sons. If she could raise the girl in accordance with her wishes, to be loyal to her, to believe with she taught her, then the empress would not only be able to elude any hint of a threat to her surpremacy, but also gain a valuable ally who would always stand by her side should her husband's daughter, Julia, chose to turn on her.

I was a near perfect plan with not one flaw she could think of.

Livia smiled. Baby Eve whimpered in her sleep and brought her fist up to her mouth to suck on.

"She's magnificent isn't she?"

The empress turned around to see her husband leaning casually in the door frame.

Livia nodded her head and moved towards Augustus. When she was close enough, she leaned up and kissed him. The kiss lingered for a minute or so and then Livia pulled back only far enough to star into her husband's eyes.

"She is. I wish we could have a child quite as beautiful."

"She's ours now, to raise as we see fit." Augustus said.

"What about her parents? What became of them?" Livia askesd.

"Her mother was a good friend of mine as a boy. She saved me from execution by Caesar's enemies in Greece. If she hadn't I wouldn't be here, but she had many enemies because of all of her exploits and many of them wanted to kill the child. So she left the girl with me and faked their death so her enemies would finally leave them be. When I arrived at the place where we were supposed to meet again, she was gone. I don't know what became of her, but I swore to her to safeguard her daughter while she was in my care and I intend to keep my word."

"Such a brave soul you are, beloved."

Augustus smiled and took her hand in his, kissing the end of each fingertip and then the inner palm, "Since she is ours now, we can rename her if you like? Give the girl a proper Roman name."

"Hm. I wonder, would it be proper—to name her after an influential woman of your own family or of legend? We could name her Atia, after your mother." Livia looked at him fondly, hiding the contempt she felt deep inside at the mention of her infamous mother-in-law.

May the old witch rest in peace.

Augustus crossed his arms over his chest and let out a deep breath casually, "No, I don't think it would be proper to name her after one of the Julii when she's not a blood relative. Perhaps, we can call her Livia the Younger in honor of my beloved wife and the dearest of all Roman matrons."

An expectant grin spread itself across the empress' face and she leaned forward until their foreheads were nearly touching, their breaths mingling, "What ever you command, husband, it will be done."

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."

-Seneca the Younger- (1 BC - 65 AD)

Author's Note: Thank you Everyone for reading. Please drop me some feedback so I know how you all are liking the story and maybe a few suggestions of what you might want to see in future chapters wilth the character of Livia. Cheers! :]