"This better be good," she shouted as her name was called. It wasn't even dawn. Xenia was not a morning person, and she hated the way the men looked for her favor and panted after her like puppy dogs except they weren't half as cute.

And they weren't Ares. The kiss in the temple burned in her mind like the flame he'd created in his hand. It wasn't just the power he wielded though that helped. The bond between them went deeper then she could explain; they were more than teacher and student, god and mortal. But what they were to each other, she wasn't quite sure yet.

"Oh, it is. I have one of your brother's killers."

That was enough to make her jump out of bed. She didn't even care she was still in her night clothes as she pulled back the tent flap.

"Good work," she praised as she looked into the beady brown eyes of the Slav on his knees kneeling before her as her man had his sword on his back and a fist full of hair. "You just earned yourself a promotion."

She went back in to put on her armor and weapons before talking to the prisoner. "I'd heard there was a remnant of Slavs left, but I didn't think you were that stupid to be in my territory."

"Your territory? Bah!" and he had the gall to spit at her feet.

She laughed at the disgusting display of false bravado as she could see the way he trembled as she stepped closer. She loved that her name was beginning to put fear in men's hearts. "How do you know he's one of the ones who killed my brother?" she asked.

"He told me so himself while we were slugging beers at the tavern. He remembered being in your village two years ago. He boasted of how he'd taken the lives of a people too simple to know how to defend themselves."

"I would do it again," he said, backing the story up. "I had to feed my family. We could have taken your food bloodlessly, but you had to put up a fight, didn't you? People like your brother get killed, don't they?"

She drew her own weapon. "I could kill you with my sword," she jeered. "Run the blade across your throat. Or maybe I'll get up on my horse and run you down like you ran my brother down."

She enjoyed the way the beads of sweat popped out on his forehead though he remained tight-lipped and then trickled down. She relished the fact that she held this man's life in her hands. "But I won't," she continued.

She grinned at the way his body sagged with relief, thinking he was off the hook. "No, a quick death is much too good for you. I'm going to make sure it's slow and painful until you're begging for the mercy that you denied others."

She blinded him first with hot pokers, a typical way Byzantine rulers dealt with their enemies. She wanted him to feel as helpless and weak as his victims had been.

Then she had fun with him. She had her men form a circle around him and they all took turns beating him. He tried to fight back but to no avail. She enjoyed the poetic justice of it.

He was beaten until he was dead. She should have felt satisfaction, but she didn't. There were more of his kind out there. The only way there would ever be justice is if all the tribes united under a firm hand, her hand.

sss

"That was a beautiful display out there," Ares said, ready with a glass of wine when she went back in the tent.

"You have a strange sense of beauty," she said as she accepted the glass.

"Maybe, but I know what pleases me. And you please me."

Her lips curved, and he knew he'd said the right thing. He was rewarded with another kiss, which led to intimacies he'd long been denied.

He should have felt as if a dream had been fulfilled afterward as he stared down at the dark head of the woman in his arms. It was her soul in there this time after all, and she looked exactly as she had before. He should have been crying tears of ecstasy. Instead, a lone tear escaped in disappointment.

He wasn't in love with this Xena at all. Sure she was a wonder to behold, a raging volcano who appeared calm on the outside until a seething fury exploded and left destruction in its path. Dark Xena was to be admired and respected, wildly passionate in bed, but it was good Xena he loved.

It was good Xena who had more courage than anyone he'd ever known to turn her back on her past and on her patron god, who had stood up not only to him but to all the gods. It was this Xena who had ushered in civil order by defeating warlords, and yes, even him. It was she who had given him a different outlook on life, who had taught him to be a little more sympathetic to mortals, not an easy thing to accomplish when dealing with a god.

And what had he done? Made her walk again the path that had made her miserable. He could have warned her away from repeating history, but he hadn't. He'd encouraged her toward evil. Why? Because he was selfish. He would always be selfish.

He pulled her closer and sniffed her hair and let it's silky tresses rub sensuously against his lips. Even now he was being self-seeking because despite looking in the face of this long-coming revelation, he still didn't have the strength to tell her the truth and allow her become the person that he loved with every fiber of his being because it would mean letting her go.

So he convinced himself that he could become satisfied with this. That he'd still rather be with Xena the Conqueror as her lover than be a mere adversary of Xena the Hero. But laying there in the dark and quiet with not a single word of affection exchanged between them after a remarkably good tumble, even he found it a hard lie to swallow.