The sun was still high up in the sky when Ares decided to march his army against the Amazons.
Although, he was somewhat confused by now — he had sent for Xena, with the intention of letting her handle the matters without the blood spill — to enter the Amazon camp under the veil of a friendly visit, sneak around, retrieve the ambrosia, hand it over to him, he ate it, regained his godhood, no one had to die, end of story.
But since Xena was as much as ridiculing the idea just now — which was even more humiliating than having asked for her help in the first place — since she herself insisted on the blood spill after all — well, he didn't need to be told twice.
So here he was, at the foothill of the Amazon forest, his troops behind his back, waiting for his order to attack, when she — gods, she just couldn't stop messing with his mind, could she — decided she had a change of heart all of a sudden — and was now trying to stop him from going through with what had been her own plan in the first place — how did that make any sense, he had no idea, but he wasn't going to just stand there and let the crazy woman undermine his authority in front of his men. And Xena should know better than that, of all people; but he was going to let that one slide.
One more time, he asked her to get out of his way. She wouldn't budge, of course, and kept on pushing, making his patience grow thin.
But when she grazed his skin, drawing blood, and revealed his mortality to his troops — that was the last straw. The things she kept saying to him afterwards — that was it, there wasn't going to be any attack anymore, fuck it, fuck his troops, fuck the ambrosia, fuck the Amazons. He was going to kill the bitch. No one disrespected a God of War like that, and especially not her, not after he had given up his immortality to save her damn life! Well, she wasn't going to live to enjoy it for too long.
Not looking back, his face burning, he set off galloping behind her disappearing silhouette.
#
Xena damn well knew what she was doing, dragging Ares away from the highly sensitive situation cooking up between the Amazons and his excuse of an army.
Deep down, she felt sorry for him; those soldiers… she wouldn't trust them with setting up a tent, to say the least. Their only value was having who they believed was the God of War for a leader — which was currently no longer the case, thanks to her.
Now, when she'd just exposed their godly commander's mortality to them, when he left them behind and set off chasing after her — it was a safe bet the Amazons would take good care of the boys.
In the meantime, she was left with a bitter taste in her mouth, as she galloped away from the camp, checking every now and then if he was still on her tail.
She hadn't meant to blow his cover — she knew how desperate he had been to keep up the appearance that he was still a god — but in order to stop the bloodshed from happening she had to act fast — had to piss him off badly enough to get him to leave his troops behind and storm after her — and it was just the first thing that came to her mind. Well, she wasn't proud of it now. The adrenaline kept her going but a faint feeling of misery was gradually settling in her gut.
"That's the spot," she decided, bringing the horse to a halt. She jumped off the saddle and carefully descended down the snowy slope of the little valley with a tiny pool of pale blue water in the middle. In other circumstances, it would have been a wonder of a landscape — Gabrielle would've loved it.
It was quite the altitude, she realized, taking in the white landscape and noticing the pond was actually frozen for the most part.
Yes, this spot would more than just do. She would bait him down to the pond area and let him take out his Furies-induced frustrations on her until he was all worn out — he might have been her equal when he was immortal with godly stamina, not the case anymore — and then, when the Furies made a mistake of materializing again to edge him on some more, she'd take care of that business as well. With the Furies out of the picture, Ares would come to his senses, she would persuade him to retrieve the sorry remnants of his army and stop pestering the Amazons, and they — him and Xena — would come up with an alternative way to get him his godhood back. Satisfied with her makeshift plan, she glanced over to the nearing sounds of galloping hooves in the distance.
Her hand went down to trace the round shape of the beloved weapon hooked securely on her hip. She stroked the flat surface several times, reveling in the feel of the cold metal and the familiar engravings; it would always soothe her. Somehow, now it didn't. But then, how could it; it was a gift from him. The one weapon she could never bring herself to use against him.
"Okay, that does it," she clenched her fists, the good old annoyance always there to her rescue. "Good! And now, just snap the fuck out of it," she coached herself inwardly in her favorite manner.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes on the exhale. She hated that time of the month. She'd never been the one to feel at ease with emotions other than anger, but those several days each month she was a mess. Annoyingly, the older she got, the more the usual crankiness would give way to that fucked up mushiness that Gabrielle liked to call a "state of high fragility" in an alleged attempt to be poetic, but most likely just to piss her off. She wished for the bleeding to start already and put an end this hormonal mindfuckery. But until then, she'd better get a grip on herself. She was going to need it in a moment.
The truth was, hormonal or not, she didn't have the heart to fight him now when he was mortal and deranged on top of that; even less so after the litany of accusations he'd thrown in her face earlier. "I knew it was a mistake to trust you! You hate me, you've always hated me! I gave you all I had, and you stabbed me in the back…" his words from earlier were still ringing in her ears.
His crazed ramblings about how she — Xena — was the asshole. It was rich, really, coming from someone who just weeks before had practically sentenced her daughter to death by revealing her existence to his family; someone who'd tried to blackmail her into giving him a child on top of that. She hadn't forgotten that, but still — what he'd thrown in her face today, the way he did it — it stung.
And it bothered her.
It was the Furies, he was possessed, he wasn't himself — but it still stung. And seeing him in this state, gods, it was unsettling altogether. Even if a part of her felt a little satisfaction, that the tables finally turned; that he know knew how it felt to be on the other side of the blade. It had to be the first time in his life he had his feelings hurt.
She didn't like the hurt part. But not just because it pained her to see him suffer. The hurt part was an inconvenience. She obviously couldn't ignore it — any sane person with a heart reacted with empathy to other person's suffering. But she wasn't sure if it was safe to apply the same protocol with Ares. He wasn't one of them, he was a god; not to mention, the one with conscience and morality so different than hers. And maybe it wasn't fair on her part to deny him the right to be treated as a proper human being, but her instincts told her that his mortality didn't exactly equal humanity.
God or mortal, this would always be Ares, and even though he might have had a soft spot for her — what they had would always be a power play, regardless of how they felt about each other. She couldn't let her guard down, especially not now when she was still stirred by the fact that his mortality was the result of the sacrifice he'd made for her, and then more stirred just now, seeing him hurt. Those feelings she had to keep in check — and him, at a distance. She couldn't risk it.
Unlike for him, too much was at stake for her. Her having this damn weakness for him was one thing and as unfortunate as it was, it couldn't be helped, but letting him in on that, exposing herself and giving him the upper hand to hurt her — she couldn't afford to jeopardize her ego like that. Her heart was one thing, from a heartbreak she would recover, but the way her pride would suffer if he ever used her feelings for him against her — it scared her to think what might become of her then. Probably what was becoming of him at the moment. This had to be exactly what the Furies were now doing to him. His pride hurt, no wonder he went all ballistic on her. She knew she would do, too. Of all people, she understood better than anyone.
Somehow, this newfound empathy for him calmed her down; it felt soothing in some unclear way, to be able to connect with him like that, even if just one-sidedly. Even if it made what was to come even more cringeworthy.
She huffed at the irony of it — for the first time in her life, it felt awkward and wrong to engage in a fight with him, with this now deranged shell of somebody that she both hated and — no, she didn't hate him anymore, now she just — he was a pain in the ass, but he had been a part of her life since forever, and it just felt odd. Friend or foe, he was somebody who'd always been there. Somebody she recently found herself care about in a new unwelcome way that scared her. But most of all, somebody she'd draw a sword at so many times it was their main way of communication.
Exhaling, she chewed the inside of her upper lip pensively, misery settling in her gut again.
The sounds of the hooves were getting louder.
#
It hurt to even look at him when he was so far gone.
Apart from making the short intro of announcing he would tear her apart with his bare hands, he jumped straight to business, pulling her into a good fistfight. It still felt wrong and fucked up, but she couldn't help it — the all-too-familiar, delicious rush coursing through her blood always made her feel alive like nothing else did.
It seemed it was going to be easier than she'd anticipated.
She had made two mistakes, though.
Even worse, one of them was a rookie one, the one mistake she couldn't even fathom ever making — she underestimated the physical strength of the opponent; somehow, with him being mortal, she'd assumed it would have affected his muscle strength as well — well, it didn't. His first several blows took more of a toll on her than she expected. But it was her ego that took the biggest blow — and nothing fired her up more than that. A moment later, he was landing on his back and spitting blood.
Supporting himself on one elbow, he tried to wipe the blood spilling out of the corner of his mouth. "Are you enjoying this? Is this what you wanted? You're like a vulture! You don't have a heart, you're rotten to the core!" he hollered at her, his face twisting with such raw grief that her chest tightened, that she ached to pull him close and just hold him down until it passed — but that was the one thing she couldn't do. He wouldn't let her. She wouldn't let herself.
If she hadn't had the heart for this fight before, it was twice as bad now. She steadied herself on her feet. What the fuck was wrong with her? This wasn't like her. She wasn't the one to run from a fight, and especially not because of an emotional break-down; especially not a fight with him. The heartbroken man in front of her — no, it was Ares, the God of War, the one who tormented her for years — this was who he was. If he'd been a god now and saw her give in to her feelings like that, the humiliation would have killed her before he did.
He was up and ready, and more rabid than before. She couldn't afford to cut him any slack now; had to keep both her emotions and him in check till she tired him out. He was stronger, but she was more agile; that would do the trick as it always had.
It was working, she could tell he was getting tired.
But what worried her was her own fatigue, now progressing at an oddly fast rate. Her muscles shouldn't be strained like that yet, something was wrong. Her body felt more and more heavy with each passing moment. It was starting to cost her focus and precious reaction time, which gave him more openings.
His punches felt somehow stronger than before. She wasn't going to hold her own much longer if they kept exchanging punches, she understood as the wave of dizziness washed over her. Dizziness, or despair, she wasn't sure anymore. Fuck it. Focus. With all she had, she forced herself to snap out of it. She had to drag it out some more, the Furies were bound to show up eventually; and to drag it out she had to back off, let him chase her a bit, let herself recover from those last several blows.
Was he really going to kill her? Would he actually be able take her life, for real? It was the one thing about him that she'd never had to question before. Having to question it now was jarring.
Who was she kidding, this was Ares, and driven mad beyond control. He would've killed her before he'd know it. Somehow, the realization was strangely upsetting. Where the hell did those thoughts come from? She shouldn't be thinking this. What the fuck was wrong with her? She couldn't let him break her morale like that.
She staggered, a wave of sudden nausea washing over her. Now was her ultimate last call. She couldn't take another blow. And yet, some unexplained mental paralysis kept her in her place, for him to beat the crap out of her until she was delirious.
She licked her parched lips, her legs feeling wobbly. She had taken so many blows to the head she could swear her brain was dissolving down her throat. She couldn't believe it when she felt her menstrual cramps starting. Oh yeah, why the fuck not? It's not like it would contribute to the overall blood loss much.
"You're making this too easy, Xena," in slow motion, she saw him shake his head, and before she blinked, his fist came crashing into her side. She could have blocked it, if she'd tried. But it was pointless; everything was. She didn't really care. She swayed back, choking with blood, her vision going blurry.
"I'll try harder…"
But she didn't.
Instead, she gave him an easy opening to deliver a punch to her jaw that made her see white.