All You Asked For
(c) 2024 by reallyhatemilk
If Xena never met Gabrielle, would Ares have succeeded in baiting her back into his fold? She might've won the first round, sending him packing after she had him resurrect those villagers in "Reckoning", but what if he kept being really… uhm… relentless, intense, and the most seductive he could get? A girl can only resist for so long…
Author's notes: The story was inspired by a question recently raised by a fellow X/A shipper – what if Xena never met Gabrielle, would she have stayed on her path of redemption? Ps. I do take liberties with canon. Sometimes unintentionally (I blame the ADHD brain = poor memory) – sorry about that. But all the other atrocities are intended. And thank you for reading… I'm honestly so excited when I see that someone actually reads this – it's still a bit unbelievable. Thank you 3
Pairing: Xena/Ares (F/M) Rating: Mature
hurt/comfort, drama, angst, love, romance
All the characters from the series "Xena: Warrior Princess" belong to the Renaissance Pictures.
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He rarely showed himself to mortals.
Usually, he was a whisper; the spirit of war in their ears on the battlefield, whenever they lacked fire; or a thunderous voice bouncing off the walls of the temples they raised to worship him, when they made offerings to beg for his favor.
He made them tremble with his voice alone. They didn't need to see him. Mortals feared most what they couldn't see.
And then, there was her.
A mortal who walked into his temple with the energy that sent a jolt through him.
There was no ounce of fear in her. Hatred, bloodlust, ruthlessness, yes; but fear she was a stranger to.
It was rare, to come across a mortal like this. Fearless idiots — they made them a dime a dozen — but a warrior so fearless and clever — and a woman, at that — she was a wonder. A mortal who intrigued him to an extent quite foreign to him, her aura so powerful that he remembered thinking that, had she been a goddess, she would have been the first one he would consider his equal. The first one he would've desired to be his. Sometimes, he had fantasised about it; sometimes, more often than he would've admitted.
To her, he was tempted to show himself to.
And decided not to.
Not until he got a hold of that strange weakness rising in him at the sight of her. She would've picked up on it just like she picked up on his presence; the only mortal who did.
He was a god. It was him who had the upper hand over mortals, pulled their strings, made impact on them, not the other way round. And she would've pulled his strings, would've tried to, was brazen enough to. And something about her, this aura about her, some spell she cast when she was near — something about it told him he might not like they way it would play out if they met in person. They would, eventually; but not just yet. He desired her, but it was not worth it. He had plenty of beautiful women at his disposal. In the meantime, until he cured himself of that weakness, he decided to keep his distance.
For a long time, he had.
But then, a day came where he couldn't.
#
He thought it was just a phase.
A moment of weakness; it happened even to the greatest.
Though, hers happened in a really bad moment; the worst possible. The moment which was supposed to be the highlight of his life — when, finally, he was about to be rid of the biggest thorn at his side, the pupil of his father's eye, his annoying little brother Hercules — and by no one other than her, his favorite.
At some point, he noticed something was off. She had a falling out with her second in command; at first he thought that was the reason why she was distracted. But then, some brat almost got run over by a cart, and she jumped to save the kid, and — it was the weirdest thing, like someone pulled a lever, like a switch went off. She was disheartened, resigned; he could feel he was losing her. He had to do something.
He failed.
Getting her second in command to rile up her men against her and have her walk the Gauntlet — getting beaten to within an inch of her life — well, it hadn't done what he counted on, what it would've done even just a week ago. Didn't drive her livid, set her ablaze, spur the raging spirit that was the essence of her. Bleeding, barely alive, she collapsed on the ground. Spiritless.
He was blind with fury; ached to go there and finish what her troops didn't manage, show her his wrath; for what she'd taken away from him, robbed him of. Her bloodlust, her rage; it wasn't hers to dispose of.
Without it, she was as much as dead to him, anyway.
And she should've been, after what she then pulled — how, instead of killing Hercules, she fucked him instead.
That was the second time he was close to going to her in person. He only didn't because he knew that if he had, in his current state, he would've killed her on the spot. And, in spite of everything, whatever brain fog overcame her — she was too big of an asset, too great of a warrior to dispose of like this, when she still had a good couple of years left.
But when she then left everything behind, came back to her hometown and buried her weapons in the ground, he had to blink several times and pinch himself, because he thought he was hallucinating.
Making himself invisible, he appeared on that meadow, his spirit hovering around her. "You disappointed me," he whispered into her ear and felt her shiver.
"Good, 'cause I want nothing to do with you anymore," she replied, in a way no mortal had ever spoken to him before.
Anyone else in her spot wouldn't have lived to take another breath, but she — he was intrigued. She was playing a game, teasing him. Obviously, she couldn't have been serious about making her life about helping the poor and feeding the hungry.
He waited. Days, then weeks. For her to snap out of her little trip, bounce back to her true self.
She obviously needed a little nudge.
#
His plan was simple and genius.
Setting her up for murder and have her beloved peasants lock her up in a dungeon.
And that was where he came in, freeing her of shackles to give her a little glimpse of how it could be, how it should be, if she came to her senses and channeled that inner fire the way she was born to do.
That was the first time he showed himself to her.
And he could tell she tried to conceal it, but he was a god, he could feel what she couldn't hide; how much her pulse raced when he touched her, her temperature rising when he whispered in her ear, the fire in her eyes when, for a glimpse of a moment, she stood naked before him, before he enveloped her in garments her beauty and magnificence deserved.
It didn't take long before he came to regret it, because when he saw her in that gold and purple dress, the way the swells of her breasts were trapped in the low-cut cleavage, staying poised took all the self-control he could muster. And he had a lot of that; well, that was what he used to think. It turned out to be barely enough when she was near. But it was enough — it had to be — he was a god, for Tartarus' sake, not some horny loser that couldn't keep it in his pants, that she would think she could wrap around her finger like she did the others.
Arrogant that she was, she probably believed she could. Good, he was going to let her think that; pull her closer, bait her till she couldn't resist him anymore.
He wasn't quite ready for what came next.
She outsmarted him as no mortal ever had before, the cunning little snake.
Well, he gave her an opening, stupidly — tempting her with a great army, promising he'd resurrect the dead to her liking, Achilles and anyone else she wanted — buying it like a kid, that he managed to seduce her into joining him, that all it took was to offer her the army — and there she went, having him resurrect the three dead villagers she was imprisoned for killing — getting herself out of jail by playing him like a kid — gods, she was something else.
On the one hand, he ached to punish her somehow, but on the other — no one, god or mortal — no one had ever roused both desire and respect in him the way she did that day.
But well, there was always another day. And the day after. A week, and then another; all of which he spent trying to come up with another way — a little more foolproof, this time — to get her to snap out of this brain fog she was in.
And he was going to.
She couldn't resist him forever; he saw the effect he had on her, even if just physical.
But it was more than physical. The fire and chaos, it glimmered in her eyes whenever he came near; the familiar spark, dormant now, but still there. It just needed a little something, a little ignition, to light it up again.
Maybe it was time for a more hands-on approach.