Disclaimers: See Chapter 1

Additional Note (Please Read): This tale is a companion with, Xena & Gabrielle: A Turn of Fate. If you haven't read both stories' chapters preceding this one, you should do so now. A special thanks to my beta and all the lovely readers whom enjoy these tales. ;-)

The Conqueror & Ri

A Twist of Destiny

By Ahkiken

Chapter 39: Corinth

Meleager hastily traversed the Corinthian hallways to Ri's chamber. Thereupon hearing the distressing news of his niece's injury, and consequent soporose condition, he jetted out of his provisional quarters to be by her side. He hadn't been apprised of what caused Ri to sustain a physical impairment, though he reckoned to unravel that mystery shortly.

Flanked by the two guards whom had divulged the incident to him whilst approaching Ri's closed doorway, Meleager ordained to them, "Wait for me here."

"Yes, Chancellor." The men acceded, taking their respective positions on both sides of the entrance.

The Regent entered inside, finding three people standing around his slumbering quasi-niece, who lied under a blanket on the bed. A medic was completing binding Gabrielle's head with gauze as the castle's cook and Iona apprehensively scrutinized his furtherance. Momentarily, they noted Meleager's presence, bowing to him accordingly.

"How is she?" He prompted precisely, shutting the door behind him to walk toward the trio and the bandaged patient.

"I've cleaned and wrapped the gash on the back of her head, which was slight, so it didn't require sutures." Hippocrates reported, allowing Meleager to take his place juxtaposed to Gabrielle. "She is unconscious for now, and appears to be all right. But..."

Meleager caressed the pretender's peaceful mien, becoming disconcerted. "But?"

"We'll have to see if there's any cerebral damage once Ri awakens."

Closing his eyes, the Chancellor prayed for the injured woman. Ri had already proven to be prone to memory loss from blunt trauma to the cranium. A second occurrence could compel the storyteller to forget everything in her life again. Worse yet, what if she never recovered, remaining in a comatose state forever?

Reopening his optics, Meleager examined Gabrielle's outward aspect; particularly her thoroughly shortened tresses. "Was the wound difficult to ascertain that you had to cut her hair, too?"

"No, Chancellor..." The physician replied to Meleager's incredulous tone. "Ri's hairstyle was like this when I arrived at the scene."

The Regent was briefly aporetic that Ri would get a resembling haircut of a slave, before eyeing Minya and Iona. "What happened?"

"Lord Chancellor, Ri and I was conversing in the kitchen. Thereafter, I'd left her for a candle-drip to chastise one of my subordinates. I'm unaware of what followed, howbeit, after Iona screamed, we all saw her supporting Ri's bleeding head." Minya explicated, viewing Iona to evoke her into elucidating the unknown circumstances that coincided with the storyteller's misfortune.

"She fell...taking the chair with her, and it splintered from the descent. It occurred rapidly... Ri's eyeballs rolled into their sockets and she went backwards, banging her skull on the floor. She...looked as if Pluto was claiming her. I...I..." Recalling her friend's frightening appearance prior to plummeting rearward, the teen's sentence tapered off.

"Iona?" Meleager inquired, grasping the long-haired blonde's wrist, regaining her engrossment. "Are you telling me Ri fainted?"

'Maybe that's what it was.' She rationalized, unsuccessful in shaking the scary imagery away. "I think so... Ri was okay during the early afternoon...but seemed very tired while I sat across from her at the table in the kitchen, and started to say she didn't feel good."

"She did eat a lot." Minya added thoughtfully, thus realizing she could've incriminated herself. "Notwithstanding, I know it wasn't the food. I'm doubtful that could've made Ri sick or anything, 'cause I'd prepared it myself. I ate it also, and feel healthy. Iona did, too."

'By the gods, what's going on here?' Meleager grieved mentally, checking the bard's visible neckline. 'Poisoning or an allergic reaction would display telltale signs on Ri's skin, and there isn't any.'

Not being knowledgeable of exactly how nor why Ri had succumbed to fainting spells, perturbed Meleager. The Regent of the Realm didn't want to assume and speculate what brought on such a poor disposition that accumulated to contracting intense fatigue, or a possible illness. Nonetheless, the whilom Handmaiden had begun acting a tinge aberrant; slamming the door in Akemi's face, falling asleep in class, rightfully, but uncharacteristically disrespecting Eramus, and choosing to delay her studies in Athens for secretive reasons.

Meleager glanced at the feasible bedridden female, wondering what stint of instability coaxed Ri to butcher her lengthy, beautiful, strawberry-blonde hair. His conscience was steadfast on hoping that Ri's altered, bizarre deportment became affected by the delusions she'd once sheltered anent to the Conqueror's love for her; at least that could be permanently fixed when the Lord of Greece returned to squash the notion.

Beseeching the god of healing, Vejovis, to grant the supposed Ri restored health, he decided to be alone with her, directing his query to the healer, "Is your assessment concluded?"

"Yes." Hippocrates asserted, packing up his medical materials.

"Thank you, all." Meleager bestowed his gratefulness for the care given to Gabrielle. "I insist that y'all depart and give us some candle-marks by ourselves."

Hippocrates bowed and proceeded to do what his Regent enjoined.

"Do you wish for me to send dinner to you here, Chancellor?" Minya offered, strolling to the door as well.

"That would be deeply appreciated." He accepted.

Performing her curtsy, Minya exited the chamber, too, leaving Iona as the sole person who wasn't sanctioned to stay. However, she planned on tarrying.

"Chancellor..." She shyly pronounced. "May I be permitted to linger? I really don't want to leave Ri's bedside, and miss the chance of seeing her wake up."

Meleager pondered on Iona's heartfelt request, succinctly responding, "Sure, my dear."

A wane grin of relief was shown on Iona's lips, whilst Meleager tenderly rubbed the translucent fabric covering Gabrielle's forehead. Unnoticeably, Iona clearly gandered the dolor on the Regent's countenance, and it was coherent that he cherished Ri, regardless of his wrongful decision to punish her for the insolence she showed Eramus.

"I don't understand." Meleager thought aloud. "A perfectly normal human couldn't just get sick and blackout, even if it possibly stems from whatever she'd eaten today. Unless she's under significant stress, this doesn't make sense."

Iona recollected the Cronus spent with the Amazon who was masquerading as Ri, and began to worry that her surrogate sister's eccentric behavior from earlier broadcasted an underlying problem for something extremely severe. "Chancellor...I might've unintentionally misinformed you."

"What do you mean, Iona?" Meleager prodded, expectantly.

"Ri wasn't fully fine this noon." She became hesitant, but pressed onward, "She's been behaving and speaking rather...strangely."

{C&R}

Several candle-marks passed Helios' descension from the sky, the steersman breathed a sigh of alleviation, knowing that his assertion to the Conqueror, referring to their destination, had appeased her immensely. He simply supplicated for Neptune to maintain the calmness of the sea, and not disrupt his navigation through the Corinthian Gulf.

The Conqueror, adorned in a maroon tunic now, contentedly ambled forward to the starboard side of her vessel, descrying Selene and its silvery reflection on the watery waves' surface. Her mind wandered back many years ago to a compliment that she was accorded, as the man from Thessaly compared the Conqueror's bluish orbs to the silver celestial.

"My irises are no where near that color, Marcus." I laugh.

"If you say so, withal you can't see what I do."

Our quiet laughter slowly becomes utter silence, and I stare into Marcus' dark pupils. We have been talking for awhile, and I'm secretly ecstatic that he's chosen to keep me company.

Wanting to finish the conversation we had begun, preceding his extol of me having visual spheres that shine brighter than Selene when I smile, I clear my throat, probing, "So, Atalanta, what was she like?"

"Very stoic and determined." Marcus affirms. "She's also boastful, claiming that she is a favorite of the goddess Diana, and prideful of preserving her maidenhead."

Perhaps I'm not unique, and Atalanta does have a deity's favor.

"Well, she did almost win the competition, striking and wounding the Calydonian Boar with her arrow first." I declare, admiring the Arcadian huntress.

"She is fascinating." Marcus concurs. "And was rewarded his hide for her amazing achievement."

I conceal the sensation of jealousy, asking him, "Where were you whilst Meleager and Atalanta cornered the beast?"

The Thessalian's visage becomes glum. "Lots of men got hurt, even killed by the boar. A friend of mine, Ancaeus, had gotten gored by its tusk, and thrown against a tree. I'd faltered behind to ensure his wellbeing, but he died from blood loss."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I present my condolences. "I remember you telling me that numerous hunters were felled by the vicious animal."

"Throughout it all, and what it's worth, I am really gladdened that I've met Meleager in Calydon."

"Why's that?"

Marcus looks at me with a facial feature that is akin to Petracles' expression of attraction. I would've surmised that it was only me who's reluctantly smitten, whereas, it's both of us. The revelation causes me to bashfully divert my gaze from him. I'm not use to these unfamiliar emotions coursing through my entire body. The desire of wanting a person romantically is foreign to me. Although I'm allegiant to retaining my chastity, kissing him wouldn't be a bad thing...

Would it?

Marcus' intake of breath signals a plausible reply to my question, but he doesn't get the chance as an elderly male stumbles to our table.

"Xena."

Glancing upwards to the unwelcomed interrupter, I notice that it is Balius, the old man who tried to persuade me into running from Cortese's invasion and purported impending victory over Meleager's forces.

"Balius." I greet him pleasantly. "How are you?"

"I'm excellent, thank you for inquiring." He professes.

"How's your grandson, Belos?"

"Ah, he's home, wishing that he was a bit older to partake in tonight's adult festivities for you." Balius answers. "If I'm not intruding, I had hopes that you would come join me and my pals for a toast in your honor."

"Later." I decline his generous propoundment. "I was indulging my companion's tale apropos of his ventures in the Calydonian Hunt."

Acknowledging the dark-skinned warrior, Balius proffers his arm in an embrace. "Your name, sir?"

"Marcus of Thessaly." He rejoins, clasping forearms.

"Any soul that is willing to take on a fearsome creature without cowardice alongside Meleager, is a welcoming friend to Amphipolis." Balius predicates, disengaging. "Speaking of bravado, I recall the first Cronus I saw Xena. A great battle was being fought on the outskirts of our beloved village. I hate to admit it, but once I'd presumed we were going to lose, I became terrified and was ready to cause mass panic amongst the villagers. While I was fleeing with my grandson, we'd crossed paths with this young, teenage girl who was racing to the battlefield to fight beside her comrades."

"Balius, you don't have to evince what betide that day." I proclaim, giving a false beam, for I'm becoming unnerved from the remembrance of the past events.

"Please, do continue." Marcus expresses his interest in the story, thus Balius' reiteration advances.

"Again, I am disappointed at my actions then, because I tried to coerce her from aiding the Amphipolitans. In lieu of that, she grabbed me by my tunic, saying I better warn the villagers to escape in the mountains, and refrain from stating Amphipolis was on the verge of losing the fray. Having my doubts, I insisted on learning the girl's cognomen to badmouth her... Now all I do henceforth is praise her for being instrumental in the defeat of the warlord, and every other aggressor who dare try to make defenseless, innocent people suffer." Raising his cup of ale, Balius is teary-eyed, and he turns to the crowd of occupants in my mother's establishment, hollering, "To Xena!"

"To Xena!" Most of the patrons repeats his cheer to my hidden disapproval.

Balius grants me a farewell nod before walking away, and I'm left facing the inner turmoil of the dreadful mistake I'd made that preluded Toris' death.

"Wow!" Marcus exclaims. "I've heard the tales of your fighting skills and accomplishments, but I had no idea you singlehandedly changed the outcome of a fierce skirmish."

"I rather not talk about it." I aver.

"You're a hero to your-"

"Please..." I implore him. "Drop it."

"I apologize for offending you, Xena." Marcus arises onto his feet. "You are a remarkable woman, and I don't comprehend why you're put off by-"

"My brother died that day." I impart in a whisper, impelling Marcus to be saddened for me. "Save your kind gestures for somebody far more deserving of it. I... I'm not heroic, nor do I have predilection for being regarded as anyone's savior."

"You are a heroine." Marcus remonstrates, reaching out his hand for mine. "Albeit, if you don't wanna be here, let's go."

I contemplate whether to remain obdurate and wallow in self-pity, or follow the guy who I'm attracted to. Perchance he wants to take me to an isolated area to chat further with me concerning my brother's demise. Or find a solitary place to participate in my alpha kiss. I'm not in the kissing mood, and don't want to engage in the details of how Toris was slain. Still, I relinquish my extremity to connect with his. Clutching my hand in a firm grip, Marcus starts leading me to the entryway of the inn to escape the niceties of the surrounding individuals.

"Don't despise me for what I'm going to do. And please enjoy this moment forever." Marcus silently urges, detaching our hands and puzzling me, 'til he yells, "Meleager, Xena's planning on leaving!"

"What!" I blare at Marcus, glaring at him. "You son of a-"

"Xena." Meleager ends the vulgar remark, and traipses to me whilst Marcus scurries in a safe distance from my rage. "You can't go yet. We have a wonderful surprise in store for you."

Opting to be honest, I commence disclosing how I'm feeling 'bout everything, "Meleager, I truly love that you gathered everyone to-"

"I know, I know, young lady." Meleager interjects, announcing loudly to the public, "Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention!"

Instantly, the celebrants' chatter dissipates, and they ardently espy me. Internally, I shiver from their assiduity.

Meleager bellows, "Thanks for coming to this gathering to celebrate this combatant who's adjacent to me. Her gravitas is extravagantly immense, even now she's too humble to defer to the acclaim she justly earned."

"You're lionhearted!" Somebody shouts from the angle of where we stand, garnering others to chime in approvals of their own.

"Our hometown hero!"

"A gallant fighter!"

"Terra's protector for the undefended!"

"Mars' chosen!"

Forgive them, Minerva...

They have no clue that the goddess of war and wisdom is my benefactor.

"I couldn't have expounded it better than that!" Looking at me, Meleager assents to the commentators' accolades. "This is from your appreciative villagers."

After the Old man's pronouncement, the blacksmith, Camus, trudges in my direction, carrying a sword.

"For you." He sets the weapon in my grasp.

Forthwith, and overcoming my shock of attaining a suitable gift, the warrior within me intentionally appraises the durable steel of the blade, as well as its golden lion-headed hilt that has two legitimate rubies inserted in it; imitating the lion's eyes. I am moved beyond mere words of gratitude, and survey the inhabitants of the tavern; my mentor, friends, fellow townsfolk, including baby Lyceus who is cradled by our mother whom I've affronted. They all are commemorating this spectacular moment with me.

Repressing my guilt for being ungrateful and tetchy, I soak up the crowd's ambience. Seeking the face of the singular visitor who has indefinitely charmed me, I wink at Marcus' playful smirk while twirling the sword twice in my hand. Emulating when I was fourteen winters, I thrust the forged lion blade skyward to thundering applauds.

"Xena!" The villagers roar with zest. "Lion of Amphipolis!"

'Oh, what a night.' The Ruler of the Grecian Empire cogitated, returning from her reminiscence.

A year later when the Egyptian High Priest sent emissaries to scout Cleopatra's father's long abandoned Greek homeland for a potential bodyguard and strategist, the baptized Lion of Amphipolis became adrenalized to show support. Subsequently, her departure from Greece to Egypt had augured disastrous repercussions for the whole of Amphipolis. Its populace that held her in high esteem would pay the ultimate price, too. The Conqueror's choice to spurn Meleager's heedfulness for staying out of political affairs was another megaflop that would torment her for eternity.

Dismissing her failures once more, she knew there was no justification for crying about predicaments that couldn't be repaired, and therefore started to view the horizon of the present. Gazing at the emergence of twilight, the Conqueror smiled at the sight of approaching land.

'Finally...' She ruminated with glee. 'Corinth.'

To Be Continued...