Disclaimer: Not mine…never has been
The coarse dirt below Gabrielle was frigid, to touch it felt as though it were in fact snow, although the grey and brown tint saw to it that when looked upon, ones musing of snow would be forgotten. Gabrielle's fingers created messy lines in the soot, her nails beholding the dark grains as she pushed harder at the ground. She was tired, since being brought back to her cell she hadn't been able to stop the restlessness that drifted through her veins. Thoughts of Perdicus, of her village, of the cold dirt that she now sat upon bearded her…but mainly, and always seeming to creep upon her, her musings would turn to Xena; the warlord was troubling, uneasy to read and Gabrielle found this extremely unnerving.
Sighing with little effort Gabrielle flicked at the dirt, sending the light weight sand into the air, in the dim light it looked to be a shadow settling into its surroundings, almost disturbing, yet fascinating to the blonde. Swiping at the ground once more Gabrielle tilted her head back, resting against the wall, the smell of dust and mould assaulted her senses and she sighed again this time shutting her eyes tightly.
The screams of women and children could be heard clearly across the village of Potadeia, swords meeting swords echoed their strain as men and soldiers fought with heaving strikes, their actions fast, swift, defensive. Each to their own unique and yet understatedly the same. Fire burned with certain rage across homes and barns, aided by the wind. The yelling of demands, of fear, of pleading men and the running of villagers told of the occurring battle. Potadeia was burning to the ground and the sound of men breathing their last breath as they came upon the sword of a sneering soldier was haunting.
With a hitching breath Gabrielle held tighter to Lila's hand, her heart raced almost as fast as her legs, blonde hair was loose in the restraint of a brass clip and her dress had become muddy from the pasture and dirt. She dared not to stop running, pulled Lila strongly behind her in a futile attempt to gain more speed.
"Gabrielle," Lila gasped, "slow down, I beg of you."
She wanted to, her legs wanted to and so did her heart that thumped with violent beats beneath her bosom, "We can't, we have to get to father!"
"I can't run anymore," Added the russet haired girl in a breathless whisper, Gabrielle nodded although did not slow, her eyes searching the many men, woman, children and soldiers that seemed to almost dance to the tune of death, each time a sword met the defense of another, each time a woman called for her lost child, each time a soldier chased fearing villagers eager for a fight it seemed rehearsed, practiced on many other villages, perfected.
Slowing unconsciously as smoke fumed around her Gabrielle glanced towards her home, the wooden door was open, forced from its locks and allowing anyone to enter. Not uncertain in her movements she walked with the hesitance of an innocent child and yet the quickness of a fearing daughter towards the unfastened entrance, Lila to Gabrielle's relief followed.
The house seemed quiet as Gabrielle entered, at first glance empty and almost haunting. Her breathing was loud against the silence, exhausted from running it came in uneven, laboured gasps. For a moment the stillness became calming, washed over the bard in a soothing touch, almost that of a mothers. Although quickly murmured voices broke into the air, harshly said, angrily spat – familiar and yet foreign.
"Father!" Lila exclaimed at the sound and running quickly across the floor she swung open the door to the kitchen, it moaned under the forced speed and rattled when it hit the opposing wall. Gabrielle winced at the noise, although despite herself she found her legs moving in the direction of Lila, almost with the same thrill.
Her father stood steady holding before him a large carving knife, he was defensive and Gabrielle quickly saw the armored man standing but a few feet from her, his back was all she could see as the soldier barely flinched upon their entering the room, he had fixated his glare upon her father, sword drawn and held close by his side. Gabrielle cringed as he spoke.
"Leave now little girls' or you'll find yourself at the wrong end of my sword!" His voice was deep, almost as though he had spoken for a thousand years without break.
"Lila, Gabrielle!" Her father frowned as he warily looked to them, "Please."
It wasn't exactly a question, wasn't said with any hint as to what he might be implying or even asking of Lila and herself, but ignoring the sickness that rose within the confines of her stomach, screaming out through her whole body the message of fear, Gabrielle shook her head.
"No." Her voice sounded stronger than she felt.
A laugh followed her statement, jarringly emitted into the room. "No…?" This time the soldier turned around, his face beheld years of fighting, scars were telling of the battles won, maybe even lost. He looked older than what he probably was, forty odd summers old he was portrayed as, dark eyes the colour of dirty water held nothing but hate as he again laughed. "You aren't as smart as you look, seems like you 'av a wishin' to die, I'd be more than compliant to contribute." He tilted his sword, "Killed women before, I 'av."
Her father pushed the knife forward in a gesture of rage. "Dare you speak to my daughter!" It wasn't a question, merely a livid spoken proclamation although it got answered, again with a dark chuckle.
"Your daughter…? I'd not 'av picked you for a family man, I like killin' fathers." He spoke slowly and with a smile, Lila stepped back and Gabrielle found herself doing the opposite her eyes only looking to her fathers as she advanced. "Not afraid of me?" The aging man asked, curiously, amusedly.
"Gabrielle, please, no closer."
"Afraid…?" Her voice was low as she ignored her father's words, yet still looking at him she spoke to the soldier, "Yes, I am afraid – although love will always be stronger than fear." Her mother had told her that, many summers ago when she had woken from a nightmare, it always seemed to stay with her.
"Love!" The man spat before shaking his head forcefully, "love is a scam, never saved anyone from a sword like mine." Again the blade was tilted, "love is what a fool feels, it makes people weak little girl, makes the killin' of 'em easy and I don't like easy, you think love is strong, wait until you experience hate."
He sneered, showing yellowed teeth as he advanced a few steps closer to Gabrielle, her heart lurched within her chest and if able to she may have just ran away, although Lila was behind her, a barrier between the door and soldier. A forceful rush of adrenaline made Gabrielle swallow thickly; her throat was dry, sore from the smoke that rose from bright flames surrounding Potadeia.
"Stay away from them!" Her father yelled, stepping quickly with the blade in his grasp.
"Any last requests…?" Laughed the aged man, and with a wink to Gabrielle he turned to the forthcoming man, "Make 'em quick!"
His sword rose with the dexterity of a hundred kills, smooth in the action as he plunged the blade with no trace of hesitation towards the undefended man, no mere carving knife was a match for the immense power of his blade and as the scream of Lila echoed off bare walls a horrible sound of metal against flesh deafened Gabrielle, Lila never stopped screaming as the sword was drawn back, a smile causing many wrinkles was beheld upon the soldiers face and Gabrielle watched as her father fell heavily to the floor.
Crimson thick upon the blade matched that which now stained his chest, his dirt covered hands grasped feelingly at his shirt, clutching and pressing as blood ran freely and quickly. Sweat layered his forehead, and fast breaths came loudly. Gabrielle wanted to yell although Lila's gut-wrenching screams silenced her, she couldn't move, hardly breathed as the soldier now faced her.
"You're next." He held the stained sword mere inches from her neck, "Then her." Lila stepped back again and the man sneered.
"No, n-no…" The voice that spoke was weak, her father vainly tried to reach for the dropped knife as he clutched his chest, blood now pooling upon the floor, dark in contrast to his insipid flesh. "Run Lila…Gabrielle…"
The aged man laughed. "Run, to where?" He lowered his sword as he looked to the bleeding man, "nowhere to go, your village will be nothing when my men have finished."
"W-we'll fight!"
"A dying man like yourself?"
"No," The voice that spoke this time wasn't weak; in fact it wasn't her fathers' at all, looking quickly behind her Gabrielle saw a dark haired man walk forward, "A man like myself."
"Perdicus," Whispered Gabrielle.
Her head was filled with the memory of her father falling in defeat, collapsing to the floor, a mere fisherman, struck down by the blade of a thug. Gabrielle let out a saddened sigh as her eyes opened, the darkness of the cell hid her tears and for a moment she was thankful to be cast in the shadows. Breathing out slowly the blonde dropped her hand to the soil – once again creating lines and distorted circles upon the surface. The dirt darkened as a tear fell onto it, the grains soaking up the salty liquid.
Pulling her knees closer to her chest the bard again shut her eyes; tears spilled quickly from this action and clung to her pale cheeks. The familiar sound of scraping metal and locks releasing assaulted her ears, dust became disturbed as the heavy door was pushed open, sending a small cloud of grey into the thick air.
The first man to enter was Filippos, his hand clutching a rusted ring of metal that was holding many keys, each varied only slightly to the other in shape and size. It must have been late evening, Gabrielle mused that the time had gone no quicker than a horseless carriage, wiping away the tears that still fell she moved her sight onto the next man that was entering.
His build was taller than Filippos, broader in the shoulders as well. His boots were shined, black leather hardly scuffed or marred with dirt. It was only when he spoke did Gabrielle recognize the aged features and dulled eyes, only when he sneered at her did she recoil further against the chilled wall.
"Well, look who we 'av here."
The man laughed, laughed the same way he had when he killed her father, it was haunting – a solid reminder of the blood, the sword, and the weakly utters words. He laughed and Gabrielle broke.
