AN: quick recap of all the Hun tribes.

Akitziri Huns (Xena's previous land) –Caspian Sea

Onogur Huns –Baltic Sea

Bulgur Huns –Thrace

Atlyn Huns –Lower Thrace and Scythia

Ashina Huns (Kreka's people) –Mongolia/China

Pannonia Huns (Attila's homeland) –Hungary

White Huns (Navaz's people)–Caucasus/Armenia

Chapter 3

One Year Earlier

A day after the massacre in Pannonia, Ernak took his family to a land far away to escape with the promise of avenging Xena and all of the fallen soldiers, women and children. He took the rest of his men still alive and the few tribe women and children to the Steppes.

Ernak asked for help from other Hunnic tribes across the Eastern lands. He didn't bother to ask the Atlyn or Bulgur Huns for help since they were warring with him and his people. He never understood why his own people wanted to take over. He knew that these Huns didn't see him or his brothers as a threat once their father died. Attila was a great warrior and king. He knew how to keep these Huns in line.

He sought help from the Akitziri Huns but their numbers were far too low and they weren't well equip to fight in a war so that was a lost cause. He sent scouts to deliver letters to various tribes across the Balkans, Steppes, Near East and Kush lands. Every response was denied. He had no help except for Xena and not even she could fend off thousands of Romans on her own.

Word of Attila's death spread across all of the Hun tribes and his death was mourned. Everyone turned down Ernak when he asked for aid. His word calling for help reached all the way across the Sassanid Empire of the Persians into an uncharted territory by the Volga River.

While the Bulgur and Atlyn Huns of Thrace were eager to be rid of the Pannonians and others were low on soldiers and weapons, there was one outcast group of Huns that listened to Ernak, but they responded too late.

All too late.

The Nezak Huns from the Stan Steppes of Kazakhstan arrived in Pannonia a day too late. Everyone was dead and everyone had fled the area. The Nezak Bey, Malka, trotted into the bloody filled grass lands of Pannonia. He frowned upon seeing the men of Attila's sons scattered across the once beautiful and powerful motherland of the Huns. There were corpses everywhere and there was no life here.

It was silent. Not even birds or animals dare come to this land. The stench of the bodies filled the musky air. The sun did not shine upon Pannonia anymore. It was grim and dark. Desolate and heartrending.

His eyes scanned the bloody battlefield and he saw someone hoisted on a crucifix. A woman. A woman with long dark hair veiled over her face, her limbs gone limp. He waved his hand to his men. "Go see the crucified woman," he commanded.

The Nezak soldiers dismounted their horses and weaved through the corpses and looked up at the crucifix, tilted on its side. One soldier touched the woman's leg to see if she yet lives. He heard a small breath escape her lips and his eyes widened.

"She lives, Bey!" the soldier yelled from across the field.

"Take her down!" Malka yelled and trotted through the field, stomping on the lost souls of Pannonia. "Be careful not to harm her even more." He saw the nails in her palms and ankles, blood dried on her black armor and crimson cape that she wore.

His men carefully lowered the cross to the ground and untied her wrists. Her head lolled over and her eyes fluttered open, blacken around the edges and her mouth dry from lack of water, lack of food. Arrows stuck inside of her chest and ribs, yet she breathes, though not well.

The soldier took the nails out from her palms and she did not even wince. Her fingers limped and her legs, Malka saw that they were broken. Her shins shattered from the inside. She was unable to walk. He jumped off his horse and knelt down in front of the woman.

He lifted her chin and stared into her glazed over eyes. He knew that she must be of some importance otherwise why crucify her and not everyone else in this cursed land. "Who are you?" he whispered and she closed her eyes, letting out a soft exhale. He checked her pulse. "Get her on a gurney. We will take her with us."

"Bey," respected elite soldier, Ghar, stood beside his ruler. "Are you sure it is wise to transport her? She has already lost a lot of blood."

Malka nodded and his men carried her off and put her on a gurney to be transported on one of her large weapon wagons. "She is the only person alive here. She is important, Ghar. I will not leave her behind." He sighed and took one last look at the great Pannonia. "We should have come sooner and maybe this massacre would not have happened."

"We got here as fast as we could, Bey," Ghar lowered his eyes in shame for the Pannonian Huns –Attila's people –they were gone, all of them. All except one.

Days later, the Nezak Huns returned to their homeland near the Volga. Malka had this woman placed under the best medical care that he could offer. So far, she was still alive and breathing, though unaware of her surroundings.

Malka walked into the room inside his large home and saw the healer working to repair the damage done by the arrows that struck her. He dug inside her ribs to dig out the arrowhead pieces with gentle care. He walked around the table and scanned her badly beaten body. Her legs now in splints and stripped of her armor, only covered by her pants and a sheet covering her breasts.

"Will she recover?" he asked.

The healer sighed and got the last bit of arrowhead out of her ribs then began dressing the wound. "It is a miracle that she is still alive, Bey. I have never seen such terrible wounds in my entire life."

Her lips pale as snow, her eyes engulfed with deep purple bruises, indicating that the Romans must have beaten her face before she was crucified. Her cheeks sunken and her neck filled with scratches and more bruises most likely due to choking. She had seen a lot of pain and suffering before she was put on the cross to die.

"God willing she will make a speedy recovery. The Romans must have hated her so much. They did not stop after they crucified her. They wanted more of her. They beat her senseless," he shook his head. He did not understand the hatred of some people sometimes.

The healer nodded and patched up the wound on her side then proceeded to dress the gashes on her arms and collar bone. "Whoever she is, she must be another Scourge of God much to be treated as an animal."

Malka rubbed his chin, gawking at the woman on the table. She was important indeed. He knew that and being the only survivor among hundreds, it was truly a sign of God that she was supposed to live.

"Notify me if her condition changes." He said then left the room, allowing the healer to do what he did best.

Two weeks later Xena's eyes fluttered open. She thought she was dead. She felt dead. She might as well have been dead after what happened. She turned her head and saw a scrawny man wearing a turban and in all black hovering over a table filled with herbs and a hot cauldron of water.

She groaned softly and lifted her head and saw her legs were in metal splints. Her hands roamed her body and felt the wounds where the arrows struck her, though the wounds were slowly turning into scars, huge scars on her breast and ribs.

She tried to sit up and the sheet fell off her body and gasped, wrapping her arms around her bare breasts. The healer turned around and dropped the wooden bowls filled with herbs. She frowned and furrowed her eyebrows.

"Where am I?" she asked in a hoarse voice, begging for water to quench her dry throat.

The healer waved his hand at the guard standing by the archway. "Alert the Bey!" he said. He smiled and approached her cautiously. "Do you remember what happened to you?" he asked in a calm voice.

Xena exhaled heavily and felt a ting of pain in her side and winced. She couldn't get off the table and run away and where would she run to? She had no idea where she was and how she got here. She didn't remember anything after that awful day.

Malka hurried into the room and saw the bright blue eyes of the woman whom he saved and brought back to his motherland. He came round the table and she eyed him with tired red eyes. He took off his cape and threw it over her bare shoulders to make her feel less exposed.

"I am overjoyed to see you are awake. I was beginning to think you had fallen into an eternal slumber," he said and she kept glaring at him. "Give her water," he ordered the healer.

The old scrawny healer handed Xena the cup of the water which she downed in seconds. He filled the cup up once more and she downed the second cup. Exhaling heavily with a sigh of relief to finally have water drain down her throat.

She wrapped the cape around her shoulders tightly. Her eyes roamed around the candlelit room and turned back to the dark haired man. "Who are you?" she asked.

The Bey bowed his head. "My name is Malka of the Nezak Huns from Kazakhstan." He introduced himself.

Nezak Huns. She hadn't heard of them before and Attila never mentioned them. Then it dawned on her. Kazakhstan. She was so far from Pannonia. She was located beyond the Persian lands and in the mountains, the snowy mountainous area. Her mind immediately went to Gabrielle and Anastasia. She had no idea what happened to them.

"Pannonia. What happened?" she asked.

Malka's eyes lowered in sorrow. "Dead. Everyone is dead." He said bluntly.

Xena's eyes grew and she felt a pain in her chest –a stab in her heart. No, she wouldn't believe that. They couldn't all be dead. She knew that her daughter and Gabrielle were not dead. They couldn't be, though she couldn't say the same for the soldiers, those brave soldiers.

"When King Ernak asked for aid I was more than willing to help. Unfortunately me and my army arrived too late. You were the only survivor there."

She nodded her head slowly trying to let all of this sink in. She suddenly didn't want to be alive anymore, knowing that everyone else had perished at her hands –her failure. "Ernak...did you...recover his body?" she dared to ask and almost did not want to know.

Malka sighed. "We did not find the king's body."

Hope. There was hope that he and the others were able to escape the wrath of Zeno. She had hope and faith on her side. That was the only thing she had now. She was all alone in a foreign land, though not with foreign company. At least she was killed by the Romans or in the hands of slavers. She was with Attila's people and that was almost comforting to know.

"You saved me," she said softly and looked into his grey eyes. "Why?"

The Bey grinned and stepped closer, though she saw her body stiffen. She was wary and untrusting of anyone that came near her. That was understandable.

"I knew you were important. You were the only crucified Hun in that bloodbath." He said and saw her eyes soften. He saw such sadness. So much misery in those beautiful blue marbles. "What is your name? Who are you? I'd like to know who I saved."

She lifted her chin and pursed her lips. "Xena," she said calmly. "Former Commander in Chief of Attila."

Malka's eyes grew with shock and he heard the healer gasp. "Xena?" he said breathlessly. He was suddenly so enthralled to have someone with such high status in his presence. "I have heard so much about you. I longed to meet you when Attila was still alive. You are a great warrior. Rome fears you."

"Not anymore," she muttered, feeling drained emotionally and physically. "Thank you for saving me," she said, her heart softened and broken at the defeat she faced by the Romans. She had never seen such a bloody battle in her entire career as commander before.

He bowed his head. "The honor is mine. You are welcome to stay here and recover. I am afraid that nothing is left for you in Pannonia. You may call my home your new home."

Home. A place did not have to be a home. No place would ever feel like home knowing that the ones she loved were separated or gone from her side forever. Gabrielle was her home. Anastasia was her home. Pannonia was a place, a place she once called her home, now lost forever and soon to be taken over by Bulgur Huns.

She felt alone, so alone. She felt lost and displaced.

Fucking Romans, she cursed them all.

A year after Xena arrived in Ghazna, Kazakhstan, she had to allow her legs to heal. The other wounds were minor in her eyes, but her legs. Her shins were shattered and it took more than six months for her to get up around on her feet to learn how to walk again.

Now, she was able to walk, though with a slight limp and she was beginning to feel like an old woman, despite her young age. She was not old, but her body said otherwise. She was constantly reminded to use a walking stick by the healer, which she ignored. She was not going to be crippled for life. She wouldn't allow the Romans that satisfaction after what they did to her. She was not going to let them win. Not this time, not ever.

The desire to kill Zeno had entered her mind several times as she stayed in this foreign land. He robbed her of her ability to fight for her people and her family. He also robbed her of Gabrielle and her daughter. That, she would never forgive him for.

As the months passed by her anger towards Zeno slowly faded and she realized that she was letting hatred get in the way of her thinking. She was allowing the Roman to seep into her mind –the dark abyss that she hoped to never return to. She didn't want to succumb to her dark ways again. She couldn't, not after all the years she spent with Gabrielle.

That blonde poet showed her that there was more to life to feeding into hatred and anger. She was the light of Xena's eyes, the meaning of her existence and she wouldn't allow Zeno to taint those lovely memories. Those memories were hers and hers alone. They didn't belong to the Romans and she couldn't let herself slip into a dark abyss knowing that Gabrielle was gone from her side.

Every morning she woke and hoped that she were dead, but then realized that was rather selfish of her. If Gabrielle was alive, which she hoped she was, she let that little string of faith hang in the back of her mind. She longed to see those emerald eyes and her soft touch, her warm smile and sweet voice. But, Gabrielle was not the woman that she once was when they met so long ago.

Gabrielle was a teacher from Athens, a poet and a friend to many. She had a certain way with people despite her size and sweet demure she was a strong woman. She was willing to go through many lengths for those she loved. Xena began to love Gabrielle more and admire her as the years flew by. She once treated her so horribly and probably could never forgive herself for that. But their relationship grew into something most unexpected and turned into something special. Xena thought she could never feel those special feelings again, not with anyone else but Gabrielle.

Not even with Borias she felt those feelings. She loved him dearly even though she did not show it while he was still alive. It wasn't until after he was dead and she gave birth to Anastasia that she realized she loved him more than she wanted to admit. She took his life for granted and wished that Anastasia could have met him, just once. He reminded her a lot of Anastasia. She was so grounded and turned into a fine woman.

A saucy and sassy outspoken teenager had to grow up quickly at the tender age of fifteen when she was to have a child of her own. Xena thought that Anastasia was wise beyond her years, though she felt responsible for keeping her so cloistered her entire life. As the years passed, Ana grew into a smart young woman and a loving mother to her son, Csaba.

Xena missed him a lot and it was a sliver of Anastasia, Borias, Ellac and Attila that was close to her heart. All the people close and dear to her were within Anastasia's son and he was almost an exact copy of Ellac. So kind and gentle, yet strong-willed much like his mother. His soft green eyes that resembled his grandmother, Cera, also a kind soul that was taken from this earth far too soon.

The people that she loved were ripped from her and sometimes she wished that could have done more. She felt like she didn't do enough to protect them, especially during the battle. Ernak tried his best, bless his soul. He was a young king and rivaled that of his father's reign. He was very smart and cunning, more than Dengi ever was when he had his short reign as king.

She knew that Ernak would bring back the title of Scourge of God, honoring his father. Ellac and Dengi had doubts about their youngest brother, but Xena knew all along that Ernak would be the savior of the Huns. But, it seemed that was not true. Pannonia fell to the Romans and she was left to die.

As she stayed in Ghazna she realized that the Romans thought her dead and if her family and companion were alive, they thought she was gone too. She felt in her heart and mind that they were not dead. If she wasn't, how could they be? She wanted answers, but felt that she would never have the honor of receiving such answers.

She stood on the balcony of Malka's villa settled in the crevice of the mountains. Closing her eyes she felt the cool breeze graze her skin. She tried to make peace with herself as best as she could. A year passed and she longed to see her family, though she felt them slipping from her fingertips.

"The weather is beautiful in the mountains," Malka came to her side and her eyes shot open.

Her thoughts ceased and now she was brought back to reality. She was here in Ghazna, not in Pannonia. Memories of Gabrielle, her daughter and all the others flooded her mind. She sometimes felt like they were with her every moment when her eyes were closed. She could enter a new place when her mind was clear and her eyes dark to the world around her.

"Yes, it is," she finally answered.

The Nezak Bey sighed and leaned on the balustrade, overlooking the mountains. The summer was mild here which was nice for crops, but the winters here were harsh and frigid. "For a fierce warrior you are not a woman of many words," he noted with a subtle grin.

She smiled faintly, almost finding that amusing. "I've never heard that one before." Her voice soft and broken.

"Your people are very important to you, I can tell. The sadness in your eyes still lingers even after a year has passed. I too, understand that loss. It is difficult to move beyond the death and chaos and find a new meaning to your life. To begin anew." He said.

Those words had never been truer until this moment. Xena's bitterness towards the Romans had somewhat faded and she focused on reliving memories of her loved ones, but that's all they were, memories.

"How do you find a new beginning? I am not sure if I can find the same path that you did, Malka." She said, lowering her eyes as the pain still felt fresh. It seemed like yesterday that she lost everything dear to her.

The Bey ruffled his dark locks and exhaled deeply. "I focused on those that I loved. I asked them for guidance on what I should do. God directed me in the right path and I chose light, not darkness."

She scoffed, "are you asking me to pray?"

He smiled. "God is all knowing. Pray to whomever you'd like. They will be answered, I assure you that, but there is one thing you must have to see those prayers answered." He looked into her blue eyes. "Patience."

Patience. Gabrielle spoke of patience many times throughout their relationship. Xena was never one for patience but Gabrielle seemed to be a master of it. Another skill that Xena had yet to master even all the years she stayed beside the blonde's side. Patience is a virtue and Gabrielle was most virtuous when it came to patience. She saw the light in everyone, even when the heart was black with pain and hatred.

Xena thought to rely on Gabrielle's teachings to guide her. She did not want to feel like this forever –lost. She felt so alone, but it was a different kind of loneliness. A piece of her was gone. In fact, many pieces of her were gone. Her heart left one sliver and that was of her own self. Her heart had room for only her mind and being.

She would feel more like a failure if she did not try to reach out to Gabrielle even if it was through a spiritual plane. If she failed on the physical plane, she would not want to let Gabrielle down on a different one.

Anastasia sat inside of her yurt as Kreka was braiding her long hair. It had been over a month since she and Navaz last spoke with Shah Peroz. She felt confident that the Persian would heed her advice and write another treaty. She really didn't trust the man and wanted Navaz to understand that you can't always play by the rules to win. He truly was an unskilled king and ignorant of how to rule properly. Well, proper may not be the word. She relied on her mother's teachings to maneuver in between the fine lines of things.

Kreka was finishing up the last few strands of braiding Anastasia's hair. "So," she began.

Oh no, here it comes, Ana knew that this question was bound to come up sooner or later.

"Do you feel any different? It's been almost enough time since you shared a bed with Navaz." Kreka pried, knowing that Tuya was going to be on her case any day now.

The queen sighed, "I don't know yet. I need another a week at least," she said and Kreka fell silent, tying her hair with a large red tassel at the end, weighing her braid down for stability. She turned and looked into the woman's eyes.

Kreka saw tears forming in Anastasia's eyes and she smiled softly. She cupped the girl's cheek and wiped a tear that fell from its duct. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know if I am ready to do this. I am trying to remain calm and focused, but there is too much for me to handle right now. On top of being a queen, I also am a commander and must be a mother to Csaba. How can I also be a mother to this new child if my heart is not in the right place?"

The widow queen sighed. "Sometimes we must do things that we do not want to in order to achieve a bigger goal in the future."

"What future?" Ana stood from the bed and folded her arms. "We have nothing now! We are nothing!"

"You are queen, Anastasia. You have power here, I do not." She grabbed the flustered girl's hand and sat her back down on the bed. "You know what I think?" she said and Ana shook her head. "Your mother would be so proud of you. You have blossomed into a strong woman and though you may not have her spite, you are a one of a kind. She would see that you are sacrificing yourself for the greater good of our people and that is the most special and most difficult thing a person can do."

Anastasia wiped her cheeks and hung her head. "I don't feel like she would be proud of me right now. I feel her eyes boring into my soul. She is telling me something. I feel that she knows I am not in my right mind. I don't know what to do."

"What do you think Xena would tell you?"

"Divorce Navaz," Ana said with a slight chuckle and Kreka arched her eyebrow. She sighed. "She would tell me to do what I feel is right in my heart. But I don't know what is right from wrong anymore. I feel lost and confused without her."

Kreka nodded. "I know you do. I can see it in your eyes. Your eyes say it all. I think you need to revaluate what is important in your life and go with your instinct."

Anastasia agreed and she looked into the woman's hazel eyes. "I've never seen you show such kindness to me before."

Kreka smiled widely at that. "Xena and I may have had our differences in the past but I can't allow that to cloud my judgment when it comes to your relationship. You are a bright young woman, Anastasia. Don't forget that."

Tuya's scribe entered the yurt and averted his eyes. "My queen," he addressed Anastasia. "A letter for you." He held out a folded parchment.

She frowned and walked over to him. She never got letters, not since they left Pannonia. What is this? Her stomach churned as she held the letter in her hands. Slowly, she broke the seal and opened it, reading over it.

My dearest Anastasia,

I thought you were gone from my grasp forever. I thought I would never see you again, but it seems all my prayers have been answered. I will not reveal my name in this letter, because it is too dangerous. I had to find a currier that traveled to the Caucasus to send this letter to you. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to reach out to you after a year. A very long year.

I work for Rome now, under a new emperor, far worse than Valentinian ever was. I cannot say too much about him now. I must be careful of everything that I do. I am Consul of Rome and I'm always being watched. Sending this letter was probably not a wise choice, but I had to write you once I heard you were alright.

The emperor had a visitor come to Rome, which I can't disclose who it was for my own safety. I heard that you were married to a Hun and was overjoyed to hear that you were alive and living well! I hope that you are doing alright and also wonder if the others accompanied you.

I know of your location, but I'm afraid I can't do anything about it. I want to see you, but I think it would be too dangerous and suspicious for me to leave Rome. I just hope this letter got into your hands and give you a glimmer of hope that is at the end of the tunnel.

I want to write to you again, but if you think it is too risky, I won't wait for your response.

Love,

G.

Anastasia smiled from ear to ear and held the letter close to her chest. Her heart filled with warmth. Perfect timing. She needed something to bring her to the light at the end of the tunnel, just like Gabrielle wrote.

"Who is it from?" Kreka asked, rising from the bed.

"Gabrielle," Ana said in a soft gentle tone. "She is in Rome. She's a Consul for the new emperor."

"Gabrielle?" Kreka walked over and examined the letter for herself. "Of course, the Greek lives." She smirked.

Anastasia clutched the letter in her hands and folded it up, slipping it in her dress pocket. "I am so glad that she is alright." Alright was the understatement of the year, but at least she was alive. "I was hoping that she'd be alive. Do you think she knows anything about my mother?"

Kreka frowned sadly, "I doubt it, Ana."

"Writing her back is too risky like she mentioned," she tapped her cheek. "I want to go to Rome to meet with her."

"Anastasia, no!" Kreka warned. "You can't just leave. What will you tell Navaz? He will suspect something."

Ana grinned, "then we will come up with a plan. I must see Gabrielle. She is the only thing I have that is close to being my own mother. I need to see her. I must."

Kreka's lips upturned into a sly grin. "A diplomatic mission then, ordered by the queen herself." She suggested and Anastasia grinned, almost maliciously.