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It was the middle of the night when he heard her call his name, and in a way that jolted him awake and sent a wave of heat all over him.

He wanted to stall, make her wait for him, or at least wait a bit so as not to appear desperate, but who was he trying to fool; he'd have died if he waited another second. It wasn't like he'd been able to think about much else since their afternoon talk in the throne room.

Her chamber was quiet, if not to count the subtle flickering of the several candles placed on both bedside tables; the little flames casting a soft, glimmering glow over the bed, giving the disheveled, crimson-silk sheets an extra shine.

The baby was asleep in the crib, and she – he couldn't believe it at first, but when he walked up closer, there was no doubt – she was asleep, too; on her back, her head turned to the side, cheeks blushed red, lips slightly parted.

Carefully, he sat on the bed, watching her chest rise and fall with short little breaths, like she was dreaming of what he'd been daydreaming of since the afternoon. He longed to rip the silk off her and – but just kept staring; some strange force keeping him frozen in place. Her skin looked so smooth, so soft; her shoulders, the path under the collarbones; he longed to trace it with his nose, his mouth, kiss his way down lower, until his name would leave her lips in a breathless whisper, like it did this afternoon, like it'd been ringing in his ears ever since.

She stirred, pushing the sheets down her chest, grunting softly, her hand sliding over the fullness of her breast covered with black silk and lace of the nightgown he'd left for her – gods, she wore the clothes he'd left for her – and his throat went dry.

"Ares…" she gasped, blinking sleepily. "What is it?"

"You tell me."

"What…"

"You called."

"What?"

"I'm serious."

Giving him one more sleepy grimace, she turned to her side, turning her back on him. "Goodnight."

"Oh, I don't think so," he slid under the sheets behind her, pulling her shoulder and rolling her onto her back.

"What do you—"

"You don't get to summon the God of War and tell him to get lost…" he ran his hand up her chest, stopping at her neck. She could've have stopped him, pushed him off, kicked him out of bed; but she just closed her eyes, her breath wild.

"I was asleep," she gasped as he pressed his lips to her shoulder.

"Me too. You woke me up," he nuzzled her ear, grazing her neck with his teeth, kissing his way down to her shoulder. "So, what was it that you needed me for, that you needed so badly that it couldn't wait till the morning?" he nuzzled her chest; gods, she way she smelled – if she stopped him now, he would lose it, he would – but she wouldn't; she was ablaze, burning under his touch; his, like never before.

And she knew it, too, stopped fighting it; the way she reached for the back of his head when he kissed around her chest, the way she pushed herself into his face, the moans she tried to stifle; she was his, gods; if this wasn't real either, if this was just another dream – but it didn't matter, not now when he was about to have her, all of her, finally, after all those years.

"Was this what you were dreaming about?" he pulled the thin black straps down her shoulders, baring her chest to get a mouthful of what had been driving him crazy ever since the first time he saw her nurse, and she gasped, clutching the nape of his neck. "Say it…" he breathed against the plump, warm flesh, brushing it with his lips, with his tongue, feeling her nails dig into his shoulders. "Tell me this is what you dreamed about…"

"Yes," she whispered shakily, her neck arching, her grip tightening on the back of his head, "yes…"

"You're driving me fucking insane," he dived into her neck, pinning her with his weight, rolling the silk and lace up her thighs, losing himself in the madness she roused in him, and only stopping when she winced at his touch a moment later. "It hurts?"

"I'm still a bit sore."

Gods, of course she was sore; the sudden memory of what she'd gone through during labor gave him goosebumps.

"I'm sorry," he planted a few soft kisses around her shoulder, touching her with his hand softly; she shivered in response. "Does this hurt?"

"No."

"Show me," he asked, and felt her palm covering his. "Like this?" he asked, nuzzling her cheek, their hands moving together in a gentle rhythm, and she didn't need to answer, her whole body did; head thrown back, mouth parting, breath stuck in her throat, nails burying in his shoulder; just watching her made him high; gods, he could probably lose it from just this alone.

"I wanna do it with my mouth," he nibbled on her neck, making her shudder, "I wanna eat you…"

"Fuck…"

"All of you…" he breathed into her neck as she shivered; all the soft little gasps and whimpers driving him wild, making it so damn hard to stay calm.

Of course, a moment later the familiar wailing reached their ears; he clenched his teeth not to curse out loud. Well, at least it wasn't Gabrielle this time.

"I'll get her," he said before he could think.

He pulled the crying infant out of the crib, holding under her arms, hesitating for a second before deciding to place her on his chest; it made him slightly nervous, every time, how the little body felt so fragile, like it could break under a simple touch.

He walked back to bed, where she was sitting, staring at him with a mix of confusion and something he couldn't pinpoint. "She smells funny," he said, handing her the baby.

"Oh, you're gonna see why in a second," she grinned.

"Oh, gods…" he moved closer to the bed's headrest, leaning his back against it, frowning at what he knew was coming. "You know, I thought I admired you before, but this is a whole new level."

"It's nothing compared to labor, believe me…"

"I do believe you – I was there – I have no fucking idea how you can go through this and then just smile like nothing happened."

"It's how it works, Ares – once you see your baby for the first time, you feel such love that everything else suddenly dims out. Not that you'd ever get that."

He swallowed, looking at her in silence, with a silent smirk, amused by how oblivious she was.

"What?" she asked later, and he only registered it after a moment, distracted by watching the little mouth latch onto her breast.

"Nothing, I…" he looked away, as if caught doing something he didn't want to be caught doing.

"You like watching me feed her," she neither asked nor stated, adjusting the little head in the crook of her elbow, her brow twitching almost imperceptibly, her voice laced with just a bit of tease.

"You can't blame me."

"I don't," she said without looking at him, the corner of her mouth going up in a subtle smile.

And then, suddenly, everything was alright, just fine, as if there was just them right here and now, with everything just in place, just the way it was supposed to be. Although – he didn't think it was supposed to make him this unhinged; but neither were many other things recently; which he'd stopped analyzing altogether – he was overstimulated as it was. Maybe this was him losing it, maybe his body was going crazy of its own accord. Over the last couple of days he'd started to gradually come to terms with losing his usual grip on himself; the grip that had always been of steel, that was now just flimsy at its best. He should probably worry about it more; he probably would, if he could bring himself to bother.

"Ares…"

"Yeah?"

"What about the rest of the gods?"

"What about them?"

"You tell me."

"They don't know where you are – and I got them thinking I don't know either."

"Like they bought it…"

"Believe it or not, they did."

"It's only gonna last for so long."

"I know."

"They'll figure it out soon… Is that what you were doing for two weeks?"

"What?"

"Trying to fool them?"

"Well, yes, it took some time—"

"You know I don't trust you."

He wouldn't expect otherwise, but even despite that, her words reached some point somewhere deep inside, evoking an unpleasant sensation in his chest. "You don't have much choice though, do you?" he said, and regretted it as soon as her expression hardened into one of contempt.

"Is this what it is? Are you getting off on thinking I depend on you?"

"What? Then why the hell are you still here, huh? Are you getting off on the fact that because of your damn child I'm a dead man? And that if Zeus finds out that I'm hiding you I won't even live to see the Twilight?"

"It was your damn choice, Ares. I didn't ask for any of it. You as much as locked me up here. For two weeks – just the time you needed to weigh your options, wasn't it? And here you are, your mind finally made up. What, daddy didn't offer you a big enough incentive for the life of my child?"

He clenched his jaw, making his whole head vibrate. To kiss her and fuck her or strangle her, he wasn't sure what he wanted more.

"Don't do this," he exhaled, closing his eyes.

"You're pathetic… What, you thought I didn't know you planned on using me as a collateral?"

"And I couldn't do it! Of course I considered it, what the fuck do you think, Xena, my damn life is at stake here! And I fucking couldn't! Yes, I wanted to kill her myself, I was holding her and – and I imagined she was our daughter, and… I feel it every time I hold her, for fuck's sake…"

"You piece of scum… I want nothing to do with you."

He jumped up in bed, out of breath, sweat pouring down his chest. It was dark. He was in his bed. It was a dream. He never went to her, or did he? Snapping a portal open, he saw her asleep with Eve next to her. It was a dream. Shaking, he got out of bed. There was no air to breathe here, he needed to get out.

Stepping outside, he rested his hands on the top of the stone balustrade of the moonlit balcony, swallowing the night air like it could heal him, rinse out this fucking madness.

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Opening his eyes, he sat up rapidly, looking around. He was in her bed, the baby sleeping between them. The room was bright with sunlight. What the fuck was going on with him? He was losing his mind, this was not happening, or was it? Was it just exhaustion or madness already? He ran a hand up his chest – it was moist. The sheets were soaked. Exhaling and cursing quietly, he collapsed on his back, breathing in and out with closed eyes, trying to calm down.

He flinched when he felt a touch on his head.

"Hey," her soft voice calmed him down instantly.

"Xena…"

"You okay? You look like you've run a marathon."

Her touch felt so good on his face, calming, purifying; he closed his eyes when they welled up, willing the excess moisture to stay under the lids.

"I'm fine, I'm okay, just keep doing that," he said, feeling the lump form in his throat. "What was the last thing we did last night?"

"Why, are you writing a memoir?"

"Just tell me."

"We talked, I fed Eve, fell asleep. Why?"

"What was the last thing we talked about?"

"Ares, what's going on?"

"Just fucking tell me," he snapped. "Please..."

"You told me how you got the gods fooled about my whereabouts."

He let out a long breath and looked to his left; she was on her side, staring at him with concern.

"Marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me."

"Ares, you're starting to worry me for real…"

"They can't touch you if you're my wife."

She got out of bed and crawled under she sheets on his side, draping her arm around him, stroking his cheek. "Hey… it's okay," she kissed his forehead. "It's okay," she said softly, her mouth brushing along his hairline. He longed to touch her but didn't want her to see his hands were shaking.

Something was gripping at his throat, making his breath shallow and labored, and it felt like he was drowning, suffocating, and only her touch and the sound of her voice kept him from slipping into darkness. "Talk to me," he demanded breathlessly, grabbing her hand, pressing it hard against the side of his face, until the warm feel of it and the soft vibe of her voice made everything else fade out.

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He blinked several times, reaching across the bed. Had he been dreaming that she was here? The crib was empty, too.

Opening a portal and locating her, he materialized himself in the spacious, hot and humid gray stone chamber with a built-in round bath in the middle. Daylight didn't reach here; there were no windows, but the several wall torches gave the gloomy space a warm glow,

"Do you make a habit of harassing people during their bathtime?"

He snapped his clothes off, sitting down on the edge of the pool right behind her back, brushing the wet hair aside to bare her shoulders, leaning in to find her ear. "Just the ones I'm missing," he placed a light kiss to her earlobe, making her shiver. She moaned softy as he kept kneading his way from her shoulders up to her neck. "We have the unfinished conversation from last night, don't you think?"

"Do we? I don't seem to recall…"

"Oh, really?" he lowered himself into the water, pulling her onto his lap, flush against his chest and his growing arousal. "How about now?" he nuzzled the nape of her neck, his mind blurring, senses overflowing with her, drunk with the all the little noises she made in response to his desire.

It was only the serious tone of her voice that snapped him out of the trance.

"You're bleeding," she whispered in disbelief, adjusting herself in his lap and inspecting his arm where her nails had left marks – several minor scratches and a bigger one with a juicy blooddrop seeping out.

"What the…" he sobered up in an instant.

"You're mortal…"

"No way."

"Then how?"

He formed a very healthy-sized fireball in his palm.

"It makes no sense… how can you bleed then?"

"I can't, not unless from dagger of Helios, Hind's blood or…" he trailed off, stunned by a sudden realization, "…or another weapon with a power to kill immortals…" Gods, of course it had to be it, there was no other explanation.

Jumping out of the bath and producing a sword in his hand, he swung it around and directed the blade into his chest. The tip barely even grazed his skin when the sudden kick to his midsection left him breathless and flying backwards, landing on the stone floor with a thud, blinking in confusion as he watched her walk up to him with his sword in her hand.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" she reached out a hand, pulling him up to his feet roughly, throwing the sword to the floor.

"I just wanted to check—"

"There are safer ways to do that, you idiot."

He stared at her, breathless, the grin stretching his face. "You were worried about me…"

"It was an instinct."

She tried to push him away, brush it aside, as if she could fool him.

He lifted her up and carried back into the bath, submerging them both in the water; it was still warm, neither too hot nor too cold, just right, pleasant and refreshing against the skin. He settled himself with his back to the wall, nestling her in his lap as she straddled him.

"You tried to save my life…" he said, seizing her hip with one hand, stroking up and down her back with the other, his eyes roaming over her face; she was still pissed off, but her head tilted and eyelids grew heavy under his touch.

"It was a reflex, you would've done the same."

"I would've done the same because I love you."

He held his breath, taken aback. Well, fuck it, there – he said it. A part of him cringed, aching to get out of there, to snap himself out and into solitude, just away from her; and he would be a complete and utter idiot to do it. He squeezed his lids shut, exhaling noisily into the silence between them. What the fuck did he expect? She didn't love him; she despised him, looked down on him – was drawn to him, yes, and he was getting to her, finally, but now – this was it, he had no power over her anymore, no more cards to play, no control over anything. Powerless and pathetic, like he was mortal.

But she wasn't going to bullshit him and say she didn't feel anything, no, this time he wasn't having it, she couldn't hide behind her lies; her breath was too short, too heavy for that; her pulse was racing so crazily that he could feel it just from holding her waist.

"Ares, you're a god, you don't—"

"Well, guess what – I don't like it, either, okay? I'm not supposed to feel this way, for fuck's sake… it's like – I don't even – I can't handle it, Xena… it drives me insane," he exhaled, clutching her hips, fingers digging into her skin, "you drive me insane," he rubbed his forehead against her chin, catching his breath. "When I think something might happen to you, I just… I can't breathe…" he said against her cheek, pressing the side of his face into hers, his muscles tensing, and then relaxing, melting under the sudden warmth of her arms around him; the embrace both calming and maddening.

She pulled back slowly, her face flushed, eyes clouded, glossy. "You're not lying…" she whispered in disbelief.

He smirked. "Trust me, I wish I was. This is fucking torture. I don't know how you mortals live with it."

"We get by," she cradled his cheek, stroking softly, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I wish I knew how to do that," he sighed, and drew in a rapid breath when her fingers grazed down his stomach. "Fuck…"

She buried her other hand in his hair, brushing her nose against his. "I'll show you…" she pressed her mouth to his forehead and, gently, torturously, deliriously slowly guided him in, making them both curse, making all the air leave his lungs, leaving his mouth dry; and he wasn't sure if he just closed his eyes or went blind, but there was darkness. And her breath, shaky against his face; and no world anymore; just her; she was the world.

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