Chapter 7: Bruised by War

Iphicles knelt beside Xena, his hands moving carefully as he tended to her wounds. The flicker of firelight danced across the room, casting shadows over his face while he worked in silence. Every time she winced, he would slow down, his gaze looking up to meet hers. He wasn't going to say anything, not until she was ready. Xena's anger was noticeable, but he knew it wasn't directed at him.

He could see the rage simmering behind her eyes, a frustration that went beyond the physical pain. Her glare wasn't aimed at the hands that were gently cleaning the blood from her skin. It was aimed at something far more unshakable—her fate. Ares had claimed her, and no matter how far she went or how hard she fought, he always found her.

Iphicles dipped a cloth into a bowl of warm water and began dabbing at a particularly nasty bruise on her shoulder. The purple and blue hues of the mark made his stomach turn, and the fact that Ares was responsible for it made him angry, though he kept his own feelings in check. He wasn't going to add to the storm swirling around her. He glanced up at her, their eyes locking for a moment. She didn't say anything, but her lips were set in a tight line.

"I know," he said quietly. "It's not fair. None of it." Xena's jaw clenched, and she looked away, her anger shifting, tightening inside her.

"No, it's not," she muttered, her voice low and filled with bitterness. "No matter where I go, no matter how far I try to run, he finds me." Iphicles nodded, his hands still working to clean her cuts. He could feel the tension radiating off her, but he stayed calm, not wanting to agitate her more.

"Ares is a god," he said softly, "but that doesn't mean you belong to him." She let out a harsh laugh, though there was no humor in it.

"I'm his chosen," she spat the words out as if they were venom. "I made a pledge to him, and now... now I'm stuck." Iphicles paused, his hands stilling as he looked up at her, his expression serious.

"You don't have to be stuck. Not forever."

Xena didn't respond, but the weight of his words lingered in the air between them. She knew what he was saying, and it gnawed at her. A part of her, the part that had once relished the power Ares gave her, still held on. But another part, the part that had grown tired and weary of the endless battles and manipulation, wanted to be free. The problem was, no matter where she went, Ares would always be there, watching, waiting.

She watched as Iphicles continued to tend to her wounds. His touch was gentle, much different from the roughness of Ares. She didn't know Iphicles well, but in the short time they had spent together, he had shown her more compassion than Ares had in the last decade.

"And I'm not like Ares. I don't see you as some weapon or tool. You're a person, Xena."

That struck her hard, and for a moment, she didn't know how to respond. She had spent so long being used by Ares, manipulated into being his warrior, that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be seen as anything else.

"Iphicles," she began, her voice cracked slightly, "I don't know if I can... if I'll ever be free of him."

Iphicles didn't answer right away. Instead, he finished tending to her wounds, his fingers brushing against her skin with a tenderness she wasn't used to. When he was done, he looked at her.

"You may not be free of him," he admitted, "but you don't have to be defined by him either." Xena sighed. She wasn't ready to talk about it anymore, not tonight. She needed to clear her head, to let her mind rest.

Xena sat quietly on the edge of Iphicles' bed, her mind racing but her body demanding rest. She felt the weight of everything pressing down on her—the fights, the endless chase from Ares, the wounds that stung from more than just physical pain. She didn't know how she had ended up here, in this strange bed with a man she barely knew. And yet, he had shown her more kindness in a day than Ares had...ever.

Iphicles walked over to a chest in the corner of the room, shuffling through it as he pulled out some clothes. He paused for a moment before approaching her, holding out a loose-fitting tunic.

"Here," he said softly, his voice low but gentle. "You can change into this. It'll be more comfortable."

Xena looked at the clothes Iphicles offered for a moment. She then raised her eyes to him, and the look she gave was enough to express her feelings. Iphicles nodded, sensing the meaning of her gaze, and turned his back to give her some privacy. His shoulders felt tense, and he fidgeted nervously as he stood there, waiting.

Xena slowly began to undress, her eyes staying locked on Iphicles. She noticed how uncomfortable he seemed, unsure of what to do with himself. That small hint of vulnerability softened something within her. He wasn't trying to prove anything or act like Ares. He was just there, showing kindness.

As she finished changing into the clothes he had given her, she sat back down on the bed. The bed creaked softly under her weight, making Iphicles glance back cautiously. He wanted to make sure she was settled before he relaxed.

"Goodnight," he started to say, ready to slip out of the room.

"Wait," Xena called out, her voice firm but quiet. Iphicles let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, his heart racing slightly at the sound of her voice. He turned back towards her, hesitating for a moment. She held her hand out for him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for some kind of confirmation.

"I don't want to be alone," she admitted softly.

Iphicles hesitated again. A part of him wanted to deny her request, but the image of what she had gone through with Ares replayed in his mind. He thought about the pain she must have felt, the loneliness that came with it. Reluctantly, he nodded.

"Alright," he said quietly. He pulled out a pair of pajama pants and moved behind a screen to change, hoping to create some distance. He didn't want to let any intimacy slip in between them. Meanwhile, Xena had already laid down in the bed, her body relaxed but her mind alert, waiting for him to return.

Once he emerged from behind the screen, he kept his gaze averted, trying to keep his thoughts in check. He climbed into the bed beside her, careful not to get too close. The air felt heavy with unsaid words, and they both stared at the ceiling in silence.

Xena closed her eyes, trying to quiet her mind, but it was impossible. The room was too quiet, and her thoughts were too loud. She turned her head slightly, her eyes finding Iphicles in the dim light. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths, and she realized that with his shirt off, he looked alot like Ares. Not in a way that upset her, but in a way that stirred something else—something she wasn't sure of herself.

She scooted closer to him, her body brushing against his. Iphicles stiffened slightly, not liking the all of the sudden contact, but he didn't move away. Xena didn't wait for him to make a move. She slid her arms around his waist, pulling him closer to her. She needed this, needed to feel his warmth, to feel safe. Ares used to pull her into his strong arms at night and when he did, he made her feel like the most important person in the world.

Iphicles remained silent, his breath catching slightly as her arms wrapped around him. His heart pounded in his chest, but he didn't say a word. Then, with care, Xena took his arm and gently placed it over her body. She moved closer, tucking her head into the crook of his neck, letting the warmth of his skin soothe her.

Iphicles held her, his arm wrapped protectively around her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He didn't question it, didn't make it more than what it was. He just let her be, let her rest, and in that quiet, shared space, they found a kind of peace neither of them had expected.

She closed her eyes, letting her body relax against his, and soon enough, they both fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, the pressure of the world lifted, if only for a moment.

Xena woke up slowly, the early light filtering through the window and casting a soft glow across the room. Her body felt heavy but rested, her muscles sore but not as strained as the day before. She adjusted her body slightly and realized that she was still pressed against Iphicles, his arm draped over her waist, his breathing slow and steady.

For a moment, Xena didn't move. She stared at the ceiling, her mind replaying the events of the night before. It had been years since she allowed herself to feel anything close to comfort. Ares had taken that from her a long time ago, replacing tenderness with pain, trust with control. But with Iphicles... it had been different. His touch wasn't possessive, and his silence wasn't manipulative. It was strange. She didn't know how to feel about it.

Carefully, Xena moved out from under his arm and sat up. She glanced at him—his face calm, his body relaxed in sleep—and she felt something close to guilt. Guilt for needing this, for allowing herself to lean on someone when she was supposed to be strong enough to stand alone.

Just as she was about to get out of bed, the door creaked open, and Ryla stepped into the room with a bold walk, her eyes locking onto Iphicles immediately. Xena froze, watching from the bed as Ryla completely ignored her presence, her attention solely focused on him.

"Oh, Iphicles," Ryla said in a tone far too sweet, her voice dripping with flirtation.

"You were so impressive yesterday in the battle. I don't know how you managed to stay so strong." Xena narrowed her eyes but stayed silent, deciding to see how this played out. Ryla walked over to Iphicles' side of the bed, leaning in close, her hand brushing his shoulder. Xena could tell it was intentional, and her jaw clenched.

Iphicles stirred and opened his eyes, blinking as he took in Ryla's face inches from his. He sat up slowly, and while he didn't pull away, he also didn't respond to her touch.

"Good morning, Ryla," he said, his voice polite but steady. Ryla smiled, her eyes practically sparkling as she leaned closer.

"I just had to come by and see how you were doing. Yesterday must've taken so much out of you." She ignored Xena completely, her entire focus on Iphicles.

"Maybe I can help you relax after everything."

Xena's fists tightened in the blankets as she watched. It wasn't Ryla's flirting that bothered her the most, but Iphicles' lack of response. He didn't push her away, didn't tell her to leave. He wasn't encouraging her either, but the absence of authority, of setting any kind of boundary, gnawed at Xena. It was a pet peeve she hadn't realized she had until now: a man with power who showed no authority. Ryla practically seated herself on the edge of the bed, her hand still lingering on Iphicles' shoulder.

"You're so strong," she purred. "I couldn't stop thinking about how brave you were yesterday."

Xena's patience was wearing thin, her desire to kick Ryla out of the room growing stronger with each passing second. But she held herself back. She wanted to see how Iphicles would handle this. Iphicles finally shifted, his tone still warm, but his posture a little more firm.

"I appreciate the compliment, Ryla. But, I did nothing. I couldn't even get the door open." Ryla didn't miss a beat, moving her hand to his chest.

"But not everyone is as brave as you, standing up to a god beating his pet." She glared at Xena briefly. Xena raised an eyebrow. She expected Iphicles to say something to stop this, to acknowledge her presence, but instead, he remained nice, too nice for Xena's liking.

"You should get ready for breakfast," he said, brushing Ryla's hand off gently and standing up.

"I'm sure it's almost done." Ryla pouted but didn't push any further. She finally glanced in Xena's direction, her smile tight and dismissive.

"Oh, Xena," she said, her voice losing some of its sweetness. "I didn't see you there." Xena smirked, leaning back against the pillows, her eyes cold as she watched Ryla.

"I'm sure you didn't," she replied, her voice sharp. Ryla gave a small, awkward laugh before turning back to Iphicles, clearly flustered that she hadn't gotten the reaction she wanted from him.

"I'll let you two... finish your morning," she said, her tone much cooler than before. As Ryla walked out of the room, Xena's eyes followed her, silently contemplating her next move. She had kept quiet this time, letting Iphicles handle it—or not handle it, depending on how she looked at it. But now that she had seen how he dealt with Ryla, she knew exactly how she was going to respond the next time the opportunity arose. Xena smirked to herself. Ryla had no idea what was coming.

Ares paced back and forth in his temple, the flickering torches casting restless shadows on the stone walls. His hands balled into fists as thoughts churned through his mind. Xena had been gone too long, too far from his reach, and the gnawing anger that burned in his chest had only grown fiercer each day. It wasn't just anger, though. Beneath the surface, something far deeper clawed at him, something he had been avoiding for years—feelings he had never dared to say outloud.

He had nearly told her once. That moment in the Halls of War, when the words had almost slipped past his lips, the truth of how he felt about her. He'd stopped himself, though. How could the god of war, the very embodiment of strength and power, show that kind of vulnerability? What would she think if she knew the truth? What if it only made her see him as weak?

He stopped, staring at the flickering flame of one of the torches, his mind replaying every interaction they'd had. How could she not see it already? After all the times he had stood by her, after everything he had done for her—bringing her back when she was at death's door, guiding her through battles, shaping her into the warrior she was today.

"Does she not know? How could she not know?" he muttered to himself, his voice a low growl.

A part of him wondered if maybe, just maybe, he should tell her. If he laid it all out—his feelings, his devotion—would she finally come back to him? Maybe she didn't realize how much she meant to him, how she had always been more than just a pawn in his games of war. She was his equal, his partner. She was the only one who had ever stood beside him, challenged him, and made him feel... alive.

But then, just as quickly as the thought of confessing his feelings crossed his mind, Ares shook his head. It wasn't that simple. Xena wasn't someone who responded to sentiment. She wasn't one for soft words or tender emotions. She respected strength, power, control. And he had always been those things to her.

No, telling her how he felt wouldn't solve this.

His gaze darkened, and his thoughts took a different turn. Xena had been drifting away from him, pulled by something—or someone—else. And it wasn't because she didn't know how he felt. It was because of Iphicles.

That man. The so-called king. Ares' jaw clenched as he thought about how Iphicles had swooped in, pretending to care about Xena, offering her safety and comfort. The very things that Ares had given her in his own way, but she had chosen to go to Iphicles. Chosen him over Ares.

He slammed his fist into the nearest stone pillar, the impact shaking the torches in their sconces. The heat of his rage roared through him like a wildfire. Iphicles had taken her from him, poisoned her mind, made her think she could live without the God of War by her side.

His anger surged, and a thousand ideas rushed through his head. He could march into Iphicles' palace right now, tear it apart brick by brick, and drag Xena back to the Halls of War himself. He had the power to do it. She was his chosen, after all. She belonged with him.

But no. He couldn't act rashly. As much as he wanted to storm into that palace and take back what was his, that wasn't how this would play out. He needed to be smart. Calculated. He couldn't risk pushing Xena further away by making it seem like he was trying to control her, as he had done in the past.

Control. That's where things had gone wrong. He had always tried to control her, thinking that was the way to keep her close. But Xena wasn't someone who could be controlled. She needed to make her own choices, to feel like she had power over her own destiny. And somehow, Iphicles had made her believe that he offered her that freedom.

Ares narrowed his eyes, his mind honing in on a single, undeniable truth: it was Iphicles who had stolen Xena from him. And it was Iphicles who would pay the price.

He would bring Xena back, but not by confessing his feelings or making her see how much she meant to him. He would bring her back by reminding her who she was—who she truly was. She wasn't a queen who needed protection or some soft-hearted warrior who needed a king to care for her. She was the most feared and powerful warrior in all the land. She was a force of nature. And she was his.

He smirked, the smug confidence returning to his features. His mind began to formulate a plan, one that would make sure Xena came back to him. One that would remind her where she truly belonged. She would come to him, willingly or not, and when she did, she would finally understand.

For now, though, Ares let the fire in his heart simmer, knowing that soon enough, Xena would be back where she belonged—by his side.

But how?

His smirk twisted into something darker as the plan solidified in his mind. He wouldn't just take her back. He would make her choose. And this time, she would choose him.

With a flick of his wrist, the flames around the temple flared, casting his figure in an ominous glow. The God of War, the master of strategy, had his next move ready. It was time for Iphicles to realize that no matter how safe he thought Xena was with him, he could never protect her from Ares. And with that, Ares made his decision.

Xena would come back. Whether she wanted to or not. The fire roared once more, and the temple fell into silence as Ares prepared to execute his plan.

This time, the God of War wasn't going to lose.