AN: Hey guys! Here is part 2 of 'Your Name Written On My Wrist'! Hopefully this is a good follow up for you all and you enjoy it! Part 3, which will be the final piece of this work, should be out soon. It'll probably be a bit shorter then these last two parts, but it'll also be the payoff to this whole build up, so hopefully it's worth it. Alright now, enough of my blabbering. Enjoy!


"She died when I was fifteen," Borias said one night, answering a question Xena never asked. "We had had a bad year, horrible harvests, and the winter was harsh. No way for hunters to get in or get out of the village. Most left their dead in the alleyways, under the snow, for the spring thaw to come. When it did, a group of us were chosen to sweep the city, to find those who had perished so they could be buried."

Not that Xena cared- Borias was the current recognized leader of their army, a heater that kept her bed and the space between her legs warm, but not much more than that. She didn't care about the sad soulmate story he had for her- most of their men had them as well. But she listened, didn't interrupt; any weakness he gave now could be used against him later, so she might as well gather the intel when he was so freely offering it.

"I found her by the city gates, frozen, curled around a pile of wooden sticks she had tried to set fire to. The moment I saw her, I just knew. And then she was buried. Gone. All I know about her was her name."

He flashed her his wrist, too quickly for her to really read what it said. But, again, not that she really cared.

"I guess it was a good thing, in the end," he said with a shrug when Xena didn't respond. "If I had been married to her, instead of the wife I left for you, I might never have been able to leave. Her or my son. And yet, here I am."

"Here you are."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well," Borias said slowly, "you have a name on your wrist, don't you? Do not deny it, I have seen it. And yet, instead of being curled into bed with the lovely owner of said name, you are here with me. So, what happened to her? Who was she, if you know?"

"She was a cutie," Xena said, the lie falling from her lips easily. No one had ever asked her about the name, just making assumptions she was happy to let them make, but still, the lie came as easily as if she had told it a hundred times. "Brown hair, brown eyes, short little thing. Barely came up to my chest. She was the daughter of the leader of a town my first army and I raided, early on."

Easy lies, ones no one would ever be able to confirm or deny. Just the way she liked it.

"And what happened to this leader's daughter? This, ah…" Reaching out, Borias flipped her wrist so he could read the name scrawled there. "This Gabrielle?"

"We saw each other, I took over her father's house, we fucked to get over the first meeting hormones, and then I killed her."

Easy. Matter of fact. Words she was sure Borias didn't believe, not for a single moment, but from the gasps coming from outside her tent from the guards posted there, it was clear someone did. Good. The more people feared her, the better. And who was more terrifying then someone who had literally killed the other half of their soul?

"Xena, you didn't." Borias teased, nudging her to get her to tell the truth. "I bet this girl is happy and alive somewhere, just waiting for you to return."

"Return to check and see how her bones are doing, maybe," Xena replied casually. "Slid my knife into her heart, held her in my arms as she bled out, kissed her eyelids so she'd sleep, and that was that. You forget, Borias," she continued, making her voice go harsh, "that love is a weakness. Affection, friendship, anything deeper then what we've got as fuck buddies is nothing more than a weakness. I found my soulmate, and because she was a weakness, I got rid of her."

Whether or not he believed her, Xena couldn't really care. For the next day, it was clear everyone else did- the story had spread quicker than a wild fire started with Greek fire, and all around, she could hear mutterings. Sometimes the story was true, other times grossly exaggerated, the details almost making her wince with pity for this fake soulmate she had killed.

Perfect. For as the story was spread and told, it had just the effect she wanted. Some hated her even more- what kind of monster killed the literal other half to their soul? Others loved her- what a leader, to kill the other half of her soul to make sure no one could use it against her. Most feared her- who dare stand up against the woman, even one with two crippled legs who needed a staff to get anywhere fast, when she destroyed her own soul like that?

But whatever their opinion of her, they all respected her, and they all obeyed.

Sometimes, she was sure even Borias believed her. There was a look in his eyes sometimes, just before he started pestering her about the death, where she was sure he didn't. They were inquiries that she easily fended off- a well-placed kiss here, a whispered demand of "Fuck me" that he couldn't deny, easy little things that turned him from his questions.

But those few, when she could see the questions in his gaze before adverting them with a mixture of disgust and desire, she was sure he believed her.

She wasn't sure which she liked better, but oh well.

It didn't matter, in the long run, whether or not he did. All she needed from him was his half of the army, and once she had it? He and his opinions could suck it.


Lao Ma, without her ever saying a single word, knew.

She was like that with a lot things- just by watching, waiting, she could gather together all the threads and spin the story together like a tapestry. A detail might be wrong, here or there, the result of weaving blind, but overall her results were almost perfect to the truth.

Even with Xena, for once in her life, almost happy to give details about herself to the woman, it still took Lao Ma two weeks to ask about the name of the brother that had died, and another month to ask about her mother. Whether it was because she was waiting for Xena to be ready to answer or because it took her that long to find the questions to ask, Xena wasn't, and in all honesty, couldn't be sure. Lao Ma was as much a mystery to her as the true will of (most) the gods, and Xena was sure she always would be.

But part of her was almost entirely sure that it was the former, not the latter, that kept Lao Ma from speaking, something Xena was grateful for. She would spill herself to this woman if she but ask, but Xena was glad for the chance to wait.

Though sometimes she just wished Lao Ma would hurry up and ask already.

"Why do you lie about killing your soulmate?"

"Who says I do?"

Silently, Lao Ma just sat there, watching Xena with that stare of hers- not angry, not amused, just blank, waiting. The woman knew the warrior well enough by now to know that was all it would take to get her to talk.

Xena did, eventually. She just shrugged one of her shoulders and looked away, down at her toes, watching them wiggle freely- a sensation she hadn't had in a while.

"I dunno. It's just one of those thing, yah know? You see warlords all around, each with their little army, and they all have that weakness. Their wives, their kids, their whores, their favorite horse- at least the horse can fight back. But they become soft for their soulmates, want to put their happiness above everything else. And when you want to take over the world?" Xena half shrugged again. "Well, it's just better not to have those arrow holes in your armor. Telling people I killed her makes them fear me, take away the extra bit of danger, and even keeps her safe, wherever she is."

"I wasn't aware that you cared about her."

"I don't," Xena said quickly, lest Lao Ma think otherwise. And for once she was telling the truth. She hadn't thought about the owner of the name on her wrist in a long time- she had almost forgotten she had it, and would have, had this conversation not taken its current turn. It was becoming like her scars, like the mass of freckles that covered her shoulders in the summer; a part of her body that was there, a non-important decoration that she really didn't care about.

She had better things to do then moon over some stranger like she had when she was young. And Xena was still determined to kill her the moment she saw her, to truly end the risk to herself. But until she found the girl, Xena really couldn't make herself care.

"You care whether or not she lives or dies."

Again, Xena shrugged. "She's never done anything to me. I'll kill her if I ever find her, but if I never do, may she grow fat and happy with someone else. Though," she said slowly, the words trailing off, "with the amount of luck I've seen soulmates have, she's probably dead by now. One half of all the other pairs I've ever met are."

Lao Ma didn't respond. Instead she just reached out and took Xena's hand, pulling it into her lap so she could read the name inked onto her skin. Her fingers ever so lightly traced the letters, her lips silently forming each one to herself as she did so.

And for the first time in her life, Xena hated the owner of the name on her wrist, because that person wasn't Lao Ma.

For Lao Ma she could have tried. Could have tried to put aside the hate and the pain and the bloodlust for the rest of her life, just like she had for those few, precious nights. Could have tried to follow her path, could have tried to find her way into the peace and calm Lao Ma was always talking about. Could have tried to be better, if only because Lao Ma was the only one she wanted to be better for.

But 'Lao Ma' wasn't the name on her wrist, and Xena wasn't on hers- she barely knew any Chinese, but from the few characters she had picked up during her time with Lao Ma, she could guess that the name on Lao Ma's wrist was not hers. She had always known- they had touched so many times, during training and during their healing sessions, and not once had she felt anything like what Lyceus had described. But it could have, and for Lao Ma, Xena would have been willing to try.

But instead they had different names on their wrists, different other halves of their souls somewhere out in the world, and Xena honestly hated it. Hated that some other woman was fated to her, someone she would never even meet and had sworn to kill the moment she did; someone she didn't care about, someone she didn't want to try for.

As if Lao Ma could read her mind, a moment later the older woman was leaning over, pressing her lips in a quick kiss to Xena's wrist, her mouth lingering for the single moment it took for her to feel Xena's pulse begin to race through her skin. Then she sat back tall, offering Xena a small smile she knew she needed.

"You'll find this girl, this Gabrielle, one day, Xena, I'm sure of it. You'll find her, and she'll be your everything. Your light, your source, your drive to do good- everything that you want me to be that I can't."

"Yeah, right. What," Xena asked snarkily, rolling her eyes and yanking her hand away. "Can those mystical powers of yours show you the future now? Because even that I have to doubt, Lao Ma."

"It's nothing quite so mystical," Lao Ma replied in a tone that made Xena think she was lying, though the warrior woman had no way to prove it. "I just have my hopes for you, and my faith that they will come true."

"Maybe, but I doubt it," Xena said with a shrug. "Only you can see the good left in a warlord like me, and most of me thinks you're just full of it." Returning her gaze- which had lifted itself without her permission from her toes to Lao Ma's face- back to her feet, Xena just bit the inside of her cheek and waited.

"We should do another healing session on your legs," Lao Ma said after a few moments, as if their conversation had never happened. "They're doing well, but they could be doing better. They're almost healed, and I would hate to leave them half finished. Come along, Xena, to the room."

Xena pushed herself to her feet and followed after, not daring to say another word. Partly to keep herself from saying anything that might anger the woman more- and she was angry, Xena could tell, just keeping it to herself- and partly because she knew, if she opened her mouth, she would regret what she had to say.

(Leaving was hard, harder than she could have imagined, but so utterly easy too. The trick was to make yourself not care, to focus on the wrong done to you- in this case, Lao Ma protecting the sniveling little brat instead of siding with her and Borias. And clearly the woman was delusional. Xena was grateful to her for healing her legs, for showing her the great power that Xena would one day possess, and would always owe her the largest of debts. But all that bull about her soulmate and her being good and all that crap?

Clearly, Lao Ma had no clue what she was talking about. Maybe in a few years, when the brat was full grown and she stopped feeling like she had to protect him, Lao Ma would see things their way. And Xena could come visit her then. But for now, best to let the debt lie and let the woman sit in her dreams.)


Alti had no name.

It was almost like the shamaness was proud that she didn't have one- she often stood with both wrists pointed towards whoever she was facing, exposing the clean, unmarked skin. It wasn't the first thing people noticed about her, but it was often the one that set them most at unease.

Because she wasn't a whole soul, one of those lucky few who had escaped Zeus' wrath when he had split humanity all those eons ago. Those people were lucky- one form, two souls born together, already complete within their own skin without someone else to make them so. It was easy to spot those people, to feel the calm, the self-love that rolled from their skin, knowing they were already together, their soulmate waiting for them inside.

Xena had always envied the few she had met, for even on the receiving end of her blade, they hadn't feared death. "I'm not going alone," one had told her, her smile soft and eyes slightly unfocused, "so why be scared?"

Alti was broken. Her movements, her words, her very way of holding herself screamed that. Something was missing, and replacing it was a power, too terrible and terrifying to try and describe. She seemed proud of her brokenness, showing the jagged edges to any who dared to look, just waiting for them to turn against her.

(None of them knew. How could they? Even the strongest of shamans couldn't have known, couldn't have seen, couldn't make out the reason why Alti was so broken so deep inside. Why her wrist was bare, despite being only a half.

Even in the spirit world, there could be secrets, and had they known? Had they known that Alti was broken because she made herself that way, spending her time between lives searching for the remains of her soulmate, slaughtering them before they could enter the womb, absorbing piece after piece of light to fuel her darkness, they would have killed her at birth. They would have killed her and followed her soul into the spirit world, hunted her down like she did her soulmate, and slaughtered her soul before it could be reborn, ending her cycle. Ending her quest for power.

She couldn't let that happen. Not that it mattered, though, not really. The remains of her soulmate were almost nothing, just a few fragments that flickered at the edge of her consciousness- the rest was her darkness, her power, her gift that she so graciously shared with the Warrior Princess.

Soon, within a life or two, she would destroy the last risk to her soul and her powers. As it were, the remains were hardly enough to live much after birth, but she wanted her soulmate gone.

One less weakness that so many mistook as strength. But soon it would be gone for good, and then nothing would stand in her way.

Nothing.

So she flaunted her brokenness, showed her wrists to startle any why came near, because that brokenness was power, and their fear just more fuel to her flame.)

It was this power that drew her, drew Xena into Alti's web. Her words were right, hitting every point Lao Ma had brushed upon.

"Your soulmate will destroy you, Destroyer of Nations," she had whispered into Xena's ear many times. Of course, she knew Xena's lie- there were no lies in the spirit realm. Twisted truths, Alti once told her, for the way people perceived themselves and their actions differed from soul to soul, but still truths nonetheless. And as much as Xena told the lie, she couldn't twist it into her own truth. "She'll destroy you more than that child growing inside of you will. She'll take you from your rightful path, destroy everything you hold, and kill you over and over and over again. You should find her, Destroyer, and kill her before she can."

Everything Alti said was right- the name on her wrist had been nothing more than a burden, and were she to be rid of its owner, it would be for the better. But first, first she needed the power Alti promised her. The power she spoke of, day in and day out as they made their plans, set their traps, lured in the unsuspecting fools that would help them.

Borias hated Alti, spoke often of her evil, but Xena ignored him. Alti had what she wanted, and she was going to get it.

It wasn't hard. Kill a young Amazon, wait for the leaders to gather, slaughter them like the sheep they were-it all fell in line easily. Alti claimed her blood, and with a wave of her hand, gave Xena her next task:

The Ixion Stone.

"Find the stone," Alti had whispered into her ear the night before she and Borias were due to turn the army away, back towards Greece and home, so she could give birth to her child and send Borias off. The men were already turning against him- they could see he was going soft, and many wanted to kill him and be done with it. But Xena had spared him; he was someone willing and able to take the child she was carrying off her hands so she could fulfill the destiny Alti had promised, the world at her feet and the title of Destroyer of Nations a crown upon her head. Something she couldn't do with a kid at her hip.

It wouldn't be long now- within a month, at the latest, the army would be hers and hers alone. Then another four, and she would be free.

"Find the stone," Alti reminded her, "and you'll be one step closer to fulfilling your destiny. I'll come to you in your sleep, whisper the dreams you need to hear, and together we'll bring about your destiny."

Alti never did appear in her dreams, nor did she ever find the stone. She gave birth to a son, watched Borias die, gave the child away before she could even determine whose eyes he had been born with- events that quickly became memories with the light of the following dawn.

Her heart hurt- hurt for the man she had once considered a companion, even if she hadn't been able to return his love; hurt for the child she was leaving behind in the care of the centaurs; hurt for herself and the pain she knew was in her future, though that was the lesser of the wounds. At least she had her destiny, her revenge, her anger and her drive to keep her going. That was enough.

And for a single moment, between hurting and whipping her men back together, rebuilding her once proud army from the dregs remaining, turning them into the war machine that would sweep across Greece, she hurt for the name on her wrist. Not for the owner, no- she didn't care, not any longer. She had a destiny to fulfill, and if Alti wasn't going to help like she had promised, then Xena would do it her own way. Including making her own decisions about the potential threats to her campaign.

No, she didn't hurt for the owner of the name- she hurt the child she had once been, proclaiming her heart to a stranger, ignoring everything else. She hurt for the girl she had once been.

But only for a moment. Only for a single moment before the warlord burned back through her, pushing away the hurt, the pain, the fear and anger and sadness, leaving nothing more than one, single desire:

Become the Destroyer of Nations, one way or another.


She went by many titles in Poteidaia. While all of the parents had agreed not to speak her true one, not to say her name lest it cause one of their own pain, none of them had ever been able to come up with one they could all agree upon.

Some called her The Warrior Princess, claiming that was how she was best known, thus that was how they should know her. Others called her Destroyer of Nations, or Destroyer for short. That was what she was doing, they argued, destroying city after city, town after town, conquering half the world in the few short years since she had built her army, gained the favor of Ares, become the mighty warlord they all knew and feared. Destroyer fit. But still others called her Conqueror, for one day she would conquer the world, force Rome and Brittana and even mighty Egypt and Chin to bow before her, so why not get used to her title now?

No matter the title, the children of Poteidaia knew who their parents were talking about. Knew of the nameless warlord the adults were too scared to name. Knew of her body count, knew of the rumors and stories, and knew the fear that settled deep inside their bones of her.

It was worst for Hecuba and Herodutus, in a way. They knew the woman's name, had known it for years, and every day had to see it scribed on the inside of their daughter's wrist.

At least they had a plan.

"This will destroy her, you know," Hecuba said tiredly, leaning against the farm wall as she watched her husband work. It was late, long past the hour they normally went to sleep, but there was much to do if they wanted their scheme to work. "I honestly don't know if she'll be able to recover from this."

"I would rather see the light leave our daughters' eyes then have her become the whore of a warlord," Herodutus said stubbornly, his jaw set as he worked. "Or worse, dead because of her. You've heard the rumors, that warlords are starting to kill their soulmates when they find them, to reduce their weaknesses. Would you really rather have Gabrielle in that sort of danger?"

"You know as well as I do that rumor started because the Destroyer supposedly killed her soulmate years ago, and the others are now taking after her! How do you know that rumor's a lie, and the Xena who's written on our daughter's wrist isn't in some far off country?" Hecuba asked, pushing herself from the wall to pace besides her husband. "Even if the Destroyer is the right one, why don't we just tell her that? That we talked to an Oracle or someone, found out that her soulmate was in Egypt or Greece or some other far away land and send her there? At least she'll be safe, and have her hope."

"For two days," Herodutus scoffed, rolling his eyes, "before a group of bandits found and slaughtered her like a sacrificial lamb. No," he said, unknowningly cutting off whatever Hecuba had been about to say, "this is the only way. Besides…" His hands paused their work, slowly twirling the tool in his hands between his fingers, his gaze turning blurred as he stared out the window that stood over his work bench. "Besides, you know just as well as I do, Hecuba, if we do that, we'll never see her again." Turning towards his wife, he caught one of her hands between his own, raising it to his lips so he could place a gentle kiss against her fingers. "All I want is for us, the four of us, to be together. Together and at least content. You understand that, right?"

They were not soulmates. They had been childhood friends, and when they had reached adulthood, with the chances of trying to find their soulmate so slim, they had decided to settle with someone they already knew and cared for. Though 'settled' was, perhaps, too strong of a word. They loved each other, they truly did, and the knowledge that they both had someone else out there, someone more perfect for them than their chosen other, had just made them work even harder to make their marriage work. They loved each other and they loved their girls and they loved the little life they had carved out of the world together, making them, overall, happy and content.

They occasionally wondered- who wouldn't? Even the strongest of souls would wonder about the life they could have had if they had just looked. But they were daydreams more often than not, brief wonderings that sometimes kept their minds busy while their bodies worked. But they were happy, content, and all they wanted was that for their oldest as well.

"I think," Herodutus said slowly when Hecuba finally nodded, "so long as we give her our support, our love, and keep entertaining her stories, she'll be ok. She's a strong girl- she'll pull through. And maybe she'll even be able to find happiness like we were. All we can do is try."

Hecuba nodded, leaned forward to kiss her husband, and went back to leaning against the wall. She wasn't happy, that much was clear, but she agreed.

It had to be done.

For Gabrielle.


Gabrielle was thirteen when her parents, after breakfast, told her she was staying home for the day. No morning classes, no chores on the farm, just time spent with the two of them.

Lila had argued and whined and cried when she had been kicked out, their mother scolding her into attending the little school house the local teacher had had built, saying the entire time just how it wasn't fair Gabrielle didn't have to go but she did. Neither parent had listened to her, instead turning their entire focus to their eldest child the moment the youngest was far enough way that they could no longer hear her angry pleas. Gabrielle, for her part, thought she might be sick and just hadn't noticed it. Was she paler than usual? When Mother had leaned down to kiss her good morning, had she felt feverish? She felt fine, perfectly so, and if she wasn't sick, then she was almost mad.

She actually enjoyed school, enjoyed learning how to read and write and complete the complicated equations the teacher wrote on the board. And to miss a morning of classes would put her behind, something her parents knew of and knew she hated.

So, for the half candle mark they just milled around, beating around the bush by asking her random questions about her friends and her studies, Gabrielle was confused and angry and a little bit scared. Because why?

By the mark's end, Gabrielle wished she had never forced them to speak, wished she had never obeyed them and stayed home, wished she had never awoken from the lovely dreams she had been having, because in that single mark's time, it all ended.

Her dreams for the future. The plans she had been so carefully crafting. The speech she had been preparing for the last six months, to be delivered in private once she found her soulmate.

It all ended, because her soulmate was dead.

"When you were young, only a child," Herodutus began, "there was an illness. A terrible, horrible illness, one that swept through the village and the surrounding farms.

"We, the four of us, were ok," Hecuba quickly added, lest they scare the girl too badly. "Lila was sick for a bit, but nothing bad. Nothing you need to ever worry about, when it comes to us."

"Yes, yes, we were obviously fine," Herodutus said, waving his wife off with a quick twirl of his hand. "And most of the other people who were affected were fine too. The winter had been mild, we had had a good harvest- no one's quite sure, even today, why the illness spread. The only ones badly hurt by it were the very, very old."

"And some of the very, very young," Gabrielle interrupted, stating the fact. Their teacher had gone over the details of the plague a few months ago, when they had been discussing the town's history. Everyone know the symptoms, everyone knew about the forty-seven that had died- it was all common knowledge at this point. "What does this have to do with me?"

"It's about those who died, specifically the young," Hecuba said softly, glancing at her husband out of the corner of her eye. As if waiting for permission, or the nod of support that came a moment later. Sighing softly, Hecuba reached out and grabbed Gabrielle's hand, gently turning it so her wrist faced skyward, revealing the precious name Gabrielle kept so close to her heart. She said nothing more, just stared into Gabrielle's eyes, hoping her daughter would understand what she was trying to say without making her really say it.

She did, and in that moment of clarification, Gabrielle's whole world came crashing down.

"She was one of the children, wasn't she," Gabrielle asked, her voice a shaky whisper- the only sign of her feelings. Everything else was still, calm, as if she was holding her breath and just waiting for someone to deny her words.

"The whole family died," Herodutus cut in- he couldn't look at Gabrielle while he spoke, but his words were still clear. "The mother had died in childbirth to the twins, the father had cut out of town, so it was the two girls and their grandparents. All four got sick, and this was long before the cure was found, so they just passed. The girls were a year or so older then you. We," he added, pointing to himself and Hecuba, "had been in talks with the grandfather on when to introduce the two of you. Thought it might be wise for you two to grow up together. But, well…"

It didn't need to be said. It was obvious what he wanted to, but the words were unnecessary.

But she still needed to see.

"Take me to the graveyard."

Poteidaia's graveyard, due to the nature of their little village, was small. A farming town, it needed all the space it could to grow crops and raise animals, and a sacred space like the final resting spot of so many had to be tiny. They burned the bodies, placed the ashes into earthen jars, and set them in the earth with just a small stone to mark their death beds.

They still kept the customs, though, even with a small plot. Each stone had the owner's name, their age if it was known, and the name inked on their wrist carved into it. So if any wanderers came looking, they could confirm for themselves the demise of the one they were searching for.

It was a sad place, one Gabrielle had never been allowed to go to. Until now, nestled between her mother and father on the seat of their wagon, the donkey slowing to a halt before the gate that protected the plot from animals.

It didn't take long to find the stone she needed. As if they had been there before, memorizing the path they needed to take to get Gabrielle to the grave, Herodutus and Hecuba steered her right to a little group of five, off in a corner by themselves.

The grandparents had been soulmates, Gabrielle noticed immediately, the smallest flutter of warmth seeping into her heart as she took in the matching names. It was if the stones themselves were overflowing with love and joy, excited for their owners to have had such a long, lovely life together. A rare thing, in the smaller villages- with travel so dangerous, and no real way to pay for the trips anyway, very few soulmates found each other. Those who did cherished their meeting, just glad to have found their other half when so many others were denied theirs.

The other two stones were so much sadder because of it. Only four at the time of their passing, they would have been fourteen now. Just old enough to begin thinking about trying to find their own soulmates, making plans, scavenging together the odd dinar here and there- and neither of them would have had to spend a single one, Gabrielle realized, looking at the stone without the name she had been looking for.

"Perdicas?"

The name of her best friend threw her- she hadn't realized his own soulmate had passed as well. She wondered, briefly, if he knew, then quickly decided that he did. He was always quiet, never participating with the other children when they talked about their own soulmates, and always kept his wrist covered with a strip of black cloth.

As if he was in mourning, Gabrielle realized, a flood of pity filling her for her best friend. Just like she would be too.

"Yes," Hecuba said softly, kneeling next to the stones and brushing a bit of grime away from them. "You and he would have been siblings, had your soulmates lived."

The odds of it astounded her. Two pairs of soulmates, born into the same village, only for both pairs to be parted long before they even knew- the Fates were cruel.

A fact she was reminded of as she turned to the stone she had come out to see, tears filling her eyes and making it hard to read the names carved into the stone's face.

Xena. And underneath it, just as carefully put as the name above, Gabrielle.

It was Hecuba who led Gabrielle from the graveyard, her arms tight around her daughter to keep her from tripping over the stones. Hecuba who tried to calm the tears freely flowing down her child's cheeks, whispering as comforting words as she could find while they walked. As if scared to be near them, Herodutus trailed behind, only climbing into the seat of the cart when Gabrielle and Hecuba settled themselves onto a pile of sacks in the cart bed.

Gabrielle was in no condition to sit up, so she spend the entire ride home curled into her mother's lap, crying herself almost to sickness as the reality of her life struck her.

Herodutus took her into his arms when they reached home, cradling her against his chest while Hecuba ran ahead to open the doors. It took him mere minutes to get Gabrielle into the room she shared with Lila, though it felt like days- her entire body shook in his grasp, harder even when she had caught the Cough when she was ten, and then she had coughed so hard she had bruised her chest, almost breaking her ribs.

It terrified him, and all he could do was settle her in bed, kiss her forehead, and leave.

Even though sleep was demanding her to obey, to sink into its depths lest she destroyed herself with her sorrow, Gabrielle fought. Just for a moment- what she needed to do wouldn't take long, but she had to do it. Pushing herself out of bed, lightheaded and dizzy, she stumbled to the trunk where she and Lila kept their nice clothes, packed away with herbs and spices to keep bugs from attacking the fine fibers. Opening it up, almost choking on the smell, Gabrielle pushed aside outfit after outfit until she found the one she wanted- the dress Lila had worn to their grandfather's funeral pyre, when she had just been an infant. It no longer fit, and while Mother had been talking about turning it into something else for a long while now, Gabrielle had other ideas.

She used her teeth, jerking her head back again and again until the cloth finally ripped, a long strip tearing itself away from the rest in her teeth. Fighting back sobs so she could keep her hand steady, it was with eyes too filled with tears to even read the name one last time that she tied the cloth around her wrist.

Her soulmate was dead, and she was in mourning.


It was hours before Gabrielle finally fell asleep. Hours Hecuba had carefully marked, her eyes never leaving the candles that slowly burnt themselves past the lines she used to measure time. Hours filled with hiccupping sobs and retching as Gabrielle cried herself to sickness, the shock too much for her poor system.

Hecuba herself cried as well. Her poor, sweet girl. If only the Fates had given her a different soulmate, one that wasn't a monster, it would be ok. Gabrielle didn't deserve this pain, but because of who her other half was, she had it.

Hecuba hated the warlord even more, and hated herself for the part she had to play in this charade.

"Did you put the right stone back," she asked Herodutus as he returned, not looking away from the candle. It was hard to face him; she had been a willing participant in all of this, yes, but it had been his idea to break their daughter.

"Yes. I returned Gwen's stone to its rightful place, and threw the fake one into the river. Just like we planned."

He sat down heavily next to her, his own head falling into his hands. She could feel his guilt, his own sorrow, his anger- he hated this just as much as she did.

"How is she?"

"She just fell asleep half a mark ago," she said, giving a little shrug. "As for how she is? I guess we'll just have to wait and find out."

"This is for the best," Herodutus said once again, one hand falling, palm up, to the table. When, a moment later, Hecuba took it, intertwining their fingers, he nodded once again. "You asked me how I knew the warlord was Gabrielle's Xena. I can't explain it, but I just know. And as she is now, she'll kill our little girl. She will, I just know it. But this will keep her safe. It'll be ok, in the end, so long as she's safe and alive."

Hecuba didn't respond. There was no need to- he was right. As parents, it was their duty to make sure their daughter, both of their daughters, were ok. And if breaking their hearts was how they had to go about keeping them alive, she would do it.

But it still hurt.

"In a year or so we can bring up the idea of getting married to Perdicas," Herodutus said softly, rubbing at his eyes. "The line about them being siblings was a good one. It won't be hard to convince her that husband and wife is better than no relation at all. And they can mourn together. It'll be good for them. We can bring it up in a year. She'll be okay with the idea by then."

Hecuba almost replied, but the sound of Gabrielle waking up, only to burst back into tears, kept her from saying anything. Instead, all she could do was bow her head and pray to whoever was listening that he would be right.

That, in time, their little girl would be okay.