Chapter 6: Drowning
Xena sat on the edge of the bed, adjusting the straps of her bracers with steady movements. Her thoughts weren't on the task, nor were they on the strange moment she had experienced earlier with her reflection. She hadn't given it a second thought. What occupied her mind now was something far more important—the gods. They wouldn't sit back for long. Not after Ares had declared himself on her side. Not after she had openly accepted his help. They'd wait, regroup, and when they were ready, they'd strike again.
Her jaw tightened as she switched hands, continuing the rhythmic motion. She needed a plan. Staying at the farmhouse was already making her restless, and the idea of waiting for an attack instead of meeting it head-on didn't sit well with her. She had to stay ahead of them. But how?
A sudden gust of wind swept through the room, extinguishing the candle on the table. Xena's eyes snapped up, her body tensing as she reached for her weapons—only for her sword and chakram to suddenly fly from the table, yanked by an unseen force. They shot across the room and landed near the doorway. Before she could react, a voice filled the space, smooth and composed.
"Those won't be necessary."
Xena turned sharply to see Athena standing near the window, draped in her usual battle armor, her golden helmet tucked under one arm. Her expression was calm, unreadable, but her presence alone set Xena on edge.
Xena rose to her feet, her stance adjusting, even without her weapons. "If you think taking my sword will stop me from protecting my family, you're dumber than I thought."
Athena didn't react. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, almost as if she were studying Xena. "I didn't come to fight you, Xena. I came to talk."
Xena's lip curled. "I'm in no mood for talking."
Athena smirked. "Then you'll listen." She took a step forward, folding her arms. "You've sided with the most untrustworthy god on all of Olympus. Tell me, do you truly believe Ares will protect you against his own family?"
Xena just stared at her.
Athena's smirk grew. "And yet, you made a deal with him. A deal that benefits only him." Xena's fingers twitched at her sides, but she said nothing.
Athena's eyes suddenly turned white, glowing as she focused on Xena. A strange energy filled the room, an almost invisible pressure that made Xena's skin prickle. Then, just as suddenly, Athena's eyes returned to normal. She exhaled, tilting her head slightly.
"Is it true?" Athena asked, her voice softer now, almost curious. "Did you promise him a child?" Xena's shoulders stiffened. She remained silent.
Athena let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "So it's true." She turned slightly, as if mulling over the thought. "I must say, I fail to see how giving Ares a child will protect anyone. But I'm sure he found a way to convince you otherwise."
Athena let out a sigh, shaking her head. "I knew you were reckless, Xena, but I thought—just maybe—you had some intelligence. Your brain is only mortal, I understand, but even for a mortal, this is stupidity at its finest."
She took a slow step closer, lowering her voice to something more taunting. "Ares will say whatever he needs to say to get what he wants. That's all this was. That's all you are. You really think he cares? That he ever has?" A sharp, hollow feeling pressed against Xena's ribs, but she swallowed it down.
Athena tilted her head, her smirk widening. "Do you even know how long Ares has been alive? How many women he's fucked?"
Xena's throat tightened. The words meant nothing—just another weapon meant to cut her down—but the image it painted made her stomach turn. Athena stepped closer, watching her like a hawk. "What did he say, hmm?" she asked, her tone almost sweet. "Please, tell me." She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping into something smooth, cutting. "Did he try to convince you that he loves you?"
Something inside Xena shifted—too small to name, but enough to sting. She forced her expression to remain cold, distant, like Athena's words had no weight.
Then Athena threw her head back and laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. "Ares loves no one but himself!" she declared. "You think you're special? Xena, I've seen Ares fuck more women than there are lost souls wandering Tartarus. He's a god, Xena. We don't care about mortals. Especially a war god."
Xena exhaled slowly through her nose. Athena's eyes glinted cruelly as she studied Xena's face. "Ares is nothing but a lustful, pathetic pussy-chaser. That's all he's ever been. That's all he ever will be. He doesn't care what it is as long as he can fit his cock into it."
A deep ache settled behind Xena's ribs, but she locked it down, buried it beneath steel and silence.
Athena let out a scoff. "And yet, you—Xena, the great Warrior Princess—actually believed him." She shook her head in disappointment. Athena circled Xena like a predator savoring its wounded prey. "Tell me, when he was inside you, whispering those sweet nothings, did you actually believe it?
Xena didn't move, didn't even adjust her weight. The air felt thick, suffocating, but she refused to give Athena the pleasure of seeing her struggle to breathe.
Athena laughed, shaking her head. "Ares has been playing this game since time began. He'll say whatever it takes to get what he wants. And what he wanted, Xena, was a free fuck."
Xena focused on a crack in the floor, feeling the stone beneath her boot. It was real. Tangible. Unlike the hollow words spilling from Athena's mouth.
"Let me guess—he told you that you're different. That you mean more to him than all the others?" Athena's smirk deepened. "I wonder, did he say that before or after he had you writhing under him?"
Xena's stomach twisted, an ugly, unfamiliar weight settling there, but she shoved it aside. It didn't matter.
Athena let out another cruel chuckle. "You're nothing to him now. You served your purpose. And don't think for a second that he'll stick around once you start showing. The moment you become less fun, less thrilling, he'll be off, chasing after the next conquest."
Xena's chest felt tight, but she forced a slow breath. She had no room for weakness.
Athena's voice dropped lower, dripping with sympathy. "And what will you do then? When he's not there? When the gods still come for you, for your family? Will you still cling to the fantasy that Ares—of all gods—will be your savior?"
Xena clenched her jaw because the thought struck something raw. Something she couldn't afford to acknowledge. Her breathing was steady, but Athena could see the tension in her jaw. She was getting to her.
"You're smarter than this, Xena," Athena went on, her voice turning sharp. "At least, I thought you were. But now? Now, I see you for what you really are—desperate. You sold yourself to a man who has never belonged to anyone, least of all you. And you did it for what? Protection?" She scoffed. "You could've come to me. We could've worked something out."
She took a step closer, her voice soft but laced with venom. "But instead, you spread your legs for a man who would fuck a corpse if it were still warm." Xena's jaw remained locked, her expression unreadable, but Athena didn't miss the way her shoulders stiffened.
"He thinks with his cock, Xena. Nothing else. And as many times as he's lied to you, as many times as he's betrayed you, you still freely ride his cock. You must squeeze him just right." Athena tilted her head, a cruel smirk tugging at her lips. "That's the only thing that explains why he keeps coming back."
"You must feel so proud." Xena's chest rose and fell steadily, her expression carved from stone, but inside, a fire burned.
Athena gave a shrug. "Then again, maybe this is exactly what you wanted. Maybe, deep down, you like being owned. You like being his."
Athena raised her finger in the air, shaking it lightly. "That's right," she purred, stepping closer. "He screwed your daughter too, didn't he?" Xena's breath caught for half a second before she forced herself to keep still.
Athena let out a low, taunting laugh. "Oh, Xena, if only you could have seen them together." She circled Xena like a predator toying with its prey. "Ares devoted himself to Livia. He brought her to Olympus like she belonged there. Showed her off like a prize. Trained her. Worshipped her." Her smirk deepened. "And in return, she adored him."
The world around Xena seemed to press in. The air felt too thick, the room too small. But she didn't move. Athena leaned in, her voice dropping into a whisper. "She would have done anything for him." Xena's heart gave a hard, painful thud against her ribs. She locked her arms at her sides, nails pressing into her skin.
Athena tilted her head, her grin widening. "And she did do everything for him. She followed his every command, hung on his every word. And when he took her to bed? She screamed his name like a pledge."
Something inside Xena cracked—sharp, violent, nearly unbearable. But no one would see it. Not even Athena. Athena let out a sharp, delighted laugh. "All night long. Again and again and he never got tired of her."
Xena's fingers twitched toward the hilt of her sword before she remembered it wasn't there.
Athena was merciless. "You should have seen him with her. The way he looked at her. Like she was the most perfect thing he had ever touched. She was everything he wanted—young, ruthless, eager to please." Athena's smirk turned vicious. "I wonder... Did he ever look at you that way?"
Xena's jaw tightened, her nails biting into her palms.
Athena let out a soft, fake sigh, placing a hand over her heart. "It's tragic, really." Her smirk widened. "You and your daughter, sharing the same cock. I wonder... when Ares is deep inside you, does he think about being inside of her instead?"
The crack inside Xena's chest split wide open. Her breath caught, a fraction too sharp, but she exhaled slowly, refusing to let the pain take shape.
Athena smirked, tilting her head as if studying something pitiful. "You know what the worst part is?" she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Even if Ares did care for you in some twisted way, it still wouldn't matter. Because at the end of the day, you're mortal. You'll age, you'll wither, and you'll die. And Ares? He'll still be here, fucking his way through eternity, while whatever little love you think he has for you turns to dust."
"I almost feel sorry for you," Athena sneered. "You've always been strong, but this? This is pathetic. You've let a man—a god—break you in the most humiliating way possible. And the saddest part? You'll still defend him. Still convince yourself you mean something to him."
Her laughter grew as she met Xena's gaze. "You've been played, Xena. And you don't even see it." Satisfied, she smirked. "Good luck, Chosen." Athena burst into an uncontrollable laughter.
Xena clenched her jaw, her fists tightening, but before she could respond, Athena's laughter suddenly cut off. Her expression changed, her eyes widening slightly as a quiet gasp left her lips.
She shook her head, a whisper escaping her. "No... he wouldn't."
Xena's brow creased.
Athena met her gaze once more, this time with something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Then, without another word, she disappeared, leaving Xena standing alone in the darkened room.
The goddess had left nothing behind except her venomous words, but that was enough. The air felt heavier, thick with something she couldn't shake, something that clung to her like a second skin.
She had expected Athena to come for her eventually—expected her to threaten, to posture, to scheme. That was what the gods did. But she hadn't expected this. No blades, no divine force, no grand displays of power. Just words.
Athena had known exactly where to strike, had torn into the deepest parts of her, the parts Xena had spent years locking away. The attack had been methodical, like a surgeon slicing with perfect precision, exposing every raw nerve and then pressing, pressing, pressing.
And Xena just stood there, taking the blows, absorbing them like armor dulling an enemy's strike. She had refused to react, refused to let Athena see even a crack. Because that was how you won against gods. You didn't let them see where it hurt.
Her breath was slow. Too slow. Controlled in a way that wasn't natural, because if she let herself exhale too hard, it might turn into something else. Athena's voice still rang in her head.
You spread your legs for a man who would fuck a corpse if it were still warm.
Xena's stomach twisted, but she refused to let the nausea take hold. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. She wouldn't let it be. Her fingers twitched at her sides—a small, almost insignificant movement, but she felt it.
Athena had called her desperate, painted her as a fool, stripped her naked with nothing but words. And the worst part?
She had stayed silent.
For the first time in her life, Xena had been at a loss for words. Not because she agreed with Athena, not because she had any shame in what she had done. But because she didn't know what to say.
Because the words had struck places she had buried deep—places she didn't want to touch. Places she had ignored for years.
She had told herself she knew what this was with Ares.
But had she?
Did he try to convince you that he loves you?
Xena's breath caught, just slightly. So quick, so sharp that if someone had been watching her, they wouldn't have noticed.
But she noticed.
Athena called it a lie. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. That uncertainty was what made her feel sick.
Her jaw clenched, fingers curling as tension coiled through her body. It shouldn't matter.
Ares was a war god, a master manipulator who had twisted words before, drawing her into his games, making her believe things she never should have. She knew how he worked, yet her throat tightened, and a faint tremor ran through her arms, a tension that refused to fade.
She turned abruptly, walking toward the basin of water near the window. The faint glow of the moon barely illuminated the room but she didn't reach for a candle. She didn't need to see. She needed to feel something else—something real, something that wasn't the echo of Athena's voice circling her mind.
She gripped the edges of the basin, her arms stiff as she leaned forward, her eyes fixed on her reflection in the darkened water. For a moment, she saw nothing—just shifting shadows. But as her vision adjusted, the shape of her own face took form, barely visible against the black surface.
She looked like herself, but she didn't feel it. Athena's voice slipped back into her mind.
Ares loves no one but himself.
She knew Ares better than anyone. She knew his arrogance, his greed, his unrelenting hunger for control. He had spent years trying to own her, to mold her, to claim her as his. She had always fought him, had always pushed back, but now...
Now, she had given him exactly what he wanted. Xena swallowed hard, the realization sinking deeper than she wanted to admit. She had done this.
She had walked into his temple, had given him her body, had given him everything, and in return, what had she expected? Her fingers curled tighter against the basin.
A slow, deep breath left her lungs, but it did nothing to ease the weight pressing against her chest. She closed her eyes, forcing the thoughts away, forcing herself to be stronger than this.
But then—she felt it. The warmth trailing down her cheek. Her eyes snapped open. Her grip on the basin slipped, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached up and touched the side of her face.
Wetness? Xena inhaled sharply, her fingers hovering over her cheek as if denying the proof of what had just happened.
A single tear slipped down her cheek, burning like molten iron against her skin. She didn't cry—not over him, not over this—but the proof was there, undeniable. Her jaw clenched so tightly she thought her teeth might crack, yet the tear still fell, silent as a dagger slicing through air, vanishing before it could ever leave a trace.
And then—nothing. She shut it down, swallowed it whole, forcing every trace of it into the void where it would never see the light again.
You will not break. Her fingers released the basin as her arms fell to her sides, but she didn't move right away. Her body felt stiff, her muscles still coiled tight with something she couldn't shake.
She had never belonged to Ares.
And she never would.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and with one last steady breath, she turned from the basin, walking away from the reflection she refused to look at again.
She dragged herself onto the bed, exhaustion weighing her down, but sleep never came. She stared at the ceiling, breathing slowly, forcing herself to relax. But the moment her eyes shut, the images came.
The halls of war stretched before her, endless and dark, lit by the glow of unsteady torches. She saw Ares walking through them, his usual confident stride, his lips curved in a smirk. But he wasn't alone.
Livia was beside him.
Xena's jaw clenched in the darkness as the vision played out in perfect, merciless detail. Livia walked with the same arrogant grace Xena had once carried, her armor gleaming, her hand brushing against Ares' arm in a way that was far too familiar. They moved together, side by side, like they belonged.
The scene changed. Livia was against the stone wall now, her head tilting back as Ares claimed her lips. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him as their bodies pressed together, no space left between them. Livia moaned into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair, and Ares groaned in response, his voice low, filled with something Xena didn't want to name.
Her stomach turned, but it didn't stop. The images kept coming.
Livia on his bed, her naked skin against his, her back arching beneath him. His lips moving along her throat, his name falling from her mouth like a plea. The way he moved, the way he buried himself inside her, the deep, broken moan he let out.
And then, his voice cut through the darkness carrying the words that made her stomach turn.
"You feel better than your mother."
Xena shot up, her breath sharp and uneven, her hands trembling as she braced herself against the mattress. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might break her ribs. Her stomach twisted violently, a sickening nausea rising too fast for her to fight it. She barely had time to lurch forward before she grabbed the bucket near her bedside, vomiting into it, her entire body shaking.
Her fingers clenched around the rim, knuckles white as another wave hit her, her breath ragged between heaves. The taste burned, bitter and acidic, but she didn't care. She just wanted it out—out of her stomach, out of her head, out of her life.
When the nausea finally eased, she sat back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her breathing was uneven, her body tense, her skin damp with sweat. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the images were still there, burned into her mind.
She had to leave.
Now.
Throwing the blanket off her legs, she pushed herself off the bed, already moving before her mind fully caught up. She grabbed her boots, barely lacing them before reaching for her weapons.
She stormed down the hall, her hands already tightening into fists as she shoved open the door to Gabrielle's room.
"Get up." Gabrielle jolted awake as she blinked against the dim light.
"Xena—?"
"We're leaving. Now."
Gabrielle sat up, frowning. "It's the middle of the night—"
"I don't care," Xena snapped, her tone sharper than intended. She exhaled, trying to steady herself, but her hands were still clenched at her sides. "Pack whatever you can carry. We're not waiting until morning."
Gabrielle studied her face, her brows creasing together. She could see the tension in Xena's body, the way her chest rose and fell too fast, the way her jaw stayed locked tight. "What happened?"
"Just do it," Xena said, her voice low and strained.
Gabrielle didn't argue. She swung her legs over the bed, already reaching for her things. Whatever had happened, whatever had shaken Xena this badly—she'd get answers later. Right now, they needed to move.
Xena turned quickly, moving down the hall with fast, tense steps. She reached Eve's door, hesitating for only a moment before pushing it open.
Moonlight came through the small window, casting soft shadows over Eve as she slept. She was curled up, her breathing slow and steady, lost in whatever peace she could still find. But as Xena stood there, something else took over—something cruel, something she didn't want to see.
The vision hit her without warning.
Ares was over Eve, his body pressed against hers, his breath hot on her skin. She saw the way he touched her, the way he kissed her, the way his fingers tangled in her hair. Then, she heard his voice—smooth, arrogant, full of pleasure.
"Who's my girl?"
Xena's stomach twisted, her breath catching in her throat as a sick feeling crawled through her again. Her hands curled into fists, her vision jumping between reality and the image Athena had forced into her head.
Before she even realized what she was doing, she grabbed Eve's arm and yanked her out of bed with more force than she meant to.
Eve hit the floor with a startled gasp and jerked awake, scrambling against the wooden boards. "Mother—?" Her voice was thick with sleep, confusion all over her face as she tried to figure out what had just happened.
Xena froze. She had just thrown her daughter onto the floor. Guilt hit her like a punch to the chest. Her hands twitched, and she dropped to one knee, reaching out with a softer touch. "Evie."
Eve pushed herself up, wincing as she rubbed her arm where Xena had grabbed her. Her eyes searched Xena's face, and whatever she saw made her stop. "What's going on?"
Xena swallowed hard. Her jaw clenched, aching from the tension, her fingers shaking slightly as she placed a hand on Eve's shoulder, steadier now. "We're leaving," she said, her voice lower, more controlled. "Now."
Eve studied her, seeing the storm Xena wasn't putting into words. But she didn't ask questions. Instead, she gave a small nod and got up.
The air was crisp with the lingering chill of night as they set out, the farmhouse shrinking behind them. Xena led the way, her pace brisk, moving fast enough that Gabrielle and Eve had to work to keep up.
Gabrielle adjusted her cloak, glancing at Eve before looking ahead at Xena's stiff posture. She could see the tension in the way Xena moved, the sharpness in every step, like she was forcing herself forward just to keep from stopping.
"Xena," Gabrielle called, her voice careful, testing the waters. "Where exactly are we heading?"
Xena didn't answer. Gabrielle exchanged another look with Eve before trying again. "Are we going towards the coast?"
Still nothing.
Eve let out a slow breath, adjusting her grip on her horse's reins. "Mother," she said, her voice firm, "what's the plan?"
Xena didn't slow down. "We keep moving."
Gabrielle frowned. "Okay, but moving where? If the gods—"
"We'll deal with them when we have to," Xena cut in, her voice short.
Gabrielle pressed her lips together, her frustration growing. "So we don't have a plan?"
Xena exhaled sharply, her hands tightening on her horse's reins as she kept walking. "The plan is to not stand around waiting to be attacked," she snapped. "That good enough for you?"
Gabrielle inhaled slowly, trying to stay patient. She could hear the bite in Xena's words, the way it coiled around every syllable like a warning. Pushing too hard wouldn't help, but letting it go wasn't an option either.
Eve wasn't about to drop it. "That's not a plan," she said, her horse stepping closer. "Are we going to the Amazons? Are we heading for allies? What's the point of running if we don't even know where we're going?"
Xena's jaw clenched, her movements turning even more rigid. "The point," she said, her voice low, "is to keep moving. And if you two can't keep up—"
She stopped abruptly, turning in one sharp motion. Her expression was hard, her eyes cold as she looked at them. "Then I'll go ahead." Before either of them could respond, she turned, grabbed the reins, and swung onto her horse in one quick movement.
Gabrielle frowned. "Xena—"
But Xena didn't wait. With a sharp nudge, her horse took off, galloping down the road, leaving them behind in a cloud of dust.
Gabrielle sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. "Well," she muttered, glancing at Eve, "that went well."
Eve shook her head, watching Xena disappear in the distance. "She's getting worse."
Gabrielle nodded, adjusting the strap of her bag before climbing onto her horse. "Come on. She'll have to stop eventually." Eve mounted up, her eyes still on the road ahead. Xena could outrun them for now, but not forever.
Xena had ridden hard for most of the night, only slowing when she finally admitted—even to herself—that pushing her horse any further wouldn't do any good. She pulled the reins, bringing her horse to a stop, near a place with enough cover from the trees to keep them hidden but open enough for a fire.
Gabrielle and Eve caught up not long after, their expressions a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Gabrielle slid off her horse, her body stiff from the long ride, while Eve dismounted with a frown.
Gabrielle wiped her forehead and took in the surroundings. "So, this is where we're stopping?"
Xena barely glanced at her as she pulled supplies from her saddlebag. "For now."
Eve exhaled slowly, brushing her horse's mane before securing it to a nearby tree. "Are you going to tell us what's going on now?"
Xena didn't answer, busying herself with gathering dry branches for the fire. She struck flint against steel, watching as the spark caught.
Gabrielle crossed her arms, watching her. "You can't avoid this forever, Xena."
Xena's jaw tightened. "I'm not avoiding anything."
Eve scoffed. "Right. That's why you tore us out of bed in the middle of the night, pushed ahead like you were running from something, and now refuse to look either of us in the eye."
Xena's fingers twitched slightly as she set her sword down beside her. She inhaled slowly through her nose before reaching for her whetstone. The sound of metal against stone filled the silence.
Gabrielle sat down near the fire, glancing at Eve before trying a different approach. "Look, whatever happened, we're not going anywhere. But you have to talk to us, Xena." Xena didn't respond, keeping her focus on her weapon, sharpening slow, steady strokes.
Eve sighed, rubbing her temples. "Fine. Be like that."
The tension stretched between them, unspoken but thick in the air. Gabrielle and Eve eventually turned their attention to preparing a quick meal, talking quietly between themselves.
Xena kept her distance. She didn't need to eat. She didn't need to talk. She needed control. She dragged the whetstone along her sword again, letting the rhythmic motion ground her.
But then, she saw it—her reflection in the blade, but not as she was now. It was her younger self, staring back at her, the coin headgear still resting against her head. A wink—quick and sharp, there one moment and gone the next.
Xena flung the sword to the ground, the metal striking the dirt with a sharp clang as the whetstone tumbled from her grip, landing beside it with a dull thud.
Eve glanced up just in time to see Xena staring at her sword before the stone fell. She frowned slightly. Then, without another word, Xena stood and walked away from the fire.
Gabrielle's head snapped up. "Where are you going?"
Xena didn't stop. "To a ball. Thought I'd dress up first," she shot back flatly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Gabrielle froze, caught off guard.
Xena kept walking disappearing into the darkness. She reached an opening and stopped, her legs locking beneath her, her body refusing to move any further. She wasn't sure what had brought her here—only that she needed to be anywhere but that camp. Anywhere but trapped inside her own head, drowning in thoughts that wouldn't quiet.
Her fingers curled against the bark of the tree, holding on as though she could anchor herself, as though it might stop the way her chest felt like it was caving in. But it didn't. It only made the shaking in her arms more noticeable, the pressure in her ribs more suffocating.
She exhaled, slow, deliberate, but it didn't help. The weight of it all was still pressing down on her.
Had any of it been worth it?
She had spent years trying to be better, had thrown herself into redemption with the desperation of a woman who believed—who hoped—that maybe, just maybe, she could balance the scales. That maybe, if she fought hard enough, if she saved enough people, if she suffered enough, she could make up for what she had done.
But she was starting to think it had all been a lie.
No matter how much good she did, life had never repaid her with peace. Every victory was met with loss. Every moment of happiness was ripped away before she could even hold onto it.
She had been poisoned, crucified, betrayed by those she trusted, forced to give up her own child, and left to mourn him when he was taken from her. She had fought against gods, warlords, and fate itself, only to lose more than she could ever keep. Over and over again, she had clawed her way back from the edge, only to be knocked down harder. And for what?
So she could be reminded, again and again, that no matter how much she fought, no matter how much she sacrificed, the world would never let her win? Her nails scraped against the bark, her breath shuddering as her vision blurred. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she barely noticed.
What was the point?
What was the damn point of it all?
She had spent her whole life trying to outrun the monster she used to be. She had bled for redemption. She had lost friends, buried loved ones, and suffered betrayals that cut deeper than any blade. No matter how many times she fought for the greater good, it was never enough. No matter how much she sacrificed, suffering always found her, like it was the only thing she was ever meant to know.
It was as if the universe had been laughing at her this entire time, watching her struggle, watching her fight, only to remind her, at every turn, that she would never escape it. That no matter how much she changed, no matter how much she clawed her way toward the light, she would always be the woman who once burned villages to the ground.
Maybe happiness had never been meant for her. Maybe all she was ever meant to do was suffer. Maybe she was never supposed to live at all."
Her breath caught, her shoulders trembling as she pressed her forehead against the tree, her body curling inward. Another tear slipped free. Then another. She could count on one hand the number of times she had let herself break like this, but tonight, she didn't have the strength to fight it.
She was tired.
Tired of running.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of trying.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. If she opened her mouth, she wasn't sure if she'd sob or scream, so she stayed silent, her chest rising and falling with short, uneven breaths.
Her stomach twisted, nausea creeping up her throat. She was so tired. And for the first time in a long time, she wondered if she would ever be anything other than exhausted.
Xena barely had time to register the change in the air before strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a solid chest. The warmth of his body was instant, a contrast to the cold emptiness she had just been drowning in. She stiffened, her breath catching, but she didn't pull away.
Ares' voice was smooth, deep, almost teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something careful. "Didn't take you for the hugging type, Xena."
Xena's fingers dug into the bark, her knuckles white. "Let go."
He didn't. Instead, his grip tightened, not forceful, but firm, like he was keeping her grounded, like he knew if he let go, she might fall apart. His breath was warm against the side of her neck, his chin resting just near her shoulder. "Not until you stop looking like you'd rather be dead."
Her jaw clenched, a sharp breath flaring through her nostrils. "I said—"
"I know what you said." His voice dropped lower, losing the playful edge. "But that doesn't mean I'm listening." She hated that he touched her like he had a right to. Hated that he thought she belonged to him.
She ripped herself free of his grasp, stepping forward with a sharp jerk of her body. "Don't touch me."
Xena turned on him, her breathing sharp, her chest rising and falling too fast. The anger boiled under her skin, burning hotter than before, because Athena's voice wouldn't leave her mind. The words clawed at her, sinking deeper, carving into wounds that had never healed.
Ares has been playing this game since time began.
You're nothing to him now.
You and your daughter, sharing the same cock.
Her breathing caught. Ares was watching her, his expression unreadable now. That smirk was gone but it didn't matter. She didn't care what he thought, didn't care about the way his eyes traced over her face, like he was searching for something.
She didn't care.
She struck first, her fist aiming for his jaw. He dodged, catching her wrist in a firm grip before twisting her arm behind her back. She gritted her teeth and wrenched free, spinning to strike again, this time leading with her elbow. Ares blocked it with his forearm, his muscles tensing against the impact. He hissed through his teeth, shaking his arm out slightly.
She smirked.
He could feel pain now—but only from her, ever since she gained the ability to kill gods. That was why this wasn't just a game to him anymore. He narrowed his eyes, reading her next move before she made it. "That's how we're playing, huh?"
Xena launched at him again.
He countered. A swift step back, a block, a sharp twist of his body as she swung. He wasn't letting her land another clean hit—not without making her work for it. He shoved her back, his strength enough to send her stumbling, but she caught herself, dropping low before springing forward again.
Fists connected. Blocks changed into counterattacks. Every hit that landed was met with another, the tension between them crackling hotter with every exchange. Xena could feel the sting of Ares' grip as he caught her arm, twisting her with enough force to throw her off balance.
But she was faster. She rolled with it, slipping under his hold and driving her knee toward his ribs. Ares grunted, absorbing the blow, but his reaction was instant.
His hands grabbed her waist, flipping her momentum against her before slamming her back against a tree. The impact sent a sharp jolt through her spine, but she refused to wince, refused to give him that satisfaction. She shoved against his chest, trying to break free, but his grip tightened, pinning her in place.
"Enough," he growled, his voice low and rough.
Xena glared up at him, her breath sharp, her body still thrumming with the need to fight. "Let me go."
Ares' fingers curled tighter around her wrists, pressing them against the rough bark. His chest rose and fell with hard breaths, his eyes locked on hers. "Not until you tell me what the hell this is."
She struggled, her jaw clenching as she pushed against him, but he held her firm. "You. It's always you."
Ares let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah? That why you're hitting me instead of thanking me?"
Xena scoffed, her pulse pounding in her ears. "You think I should thank you for ruining my life? For dragging me into this—"
"Dragging you?" Ares cut in, his grip tightening just slightly. "You came to me, remember? You made the deal, Xena. No one forced you." Her stomach twisted, because he was right. That was the worst part. No one had put a blade to her throat. She had done this. She had walked into that temple.
And now, she had to live with it.
Ares leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into something softer, something that slithered under her skin. "You're acting like some helpless victim. Since when has that ever been you?"
Her breathing caught.
Ares' eyes flickered, watching the change in her expression. "You've spent years trying to be something you're not. Pretending you could walk away from the fire in your blood. But you can't, can you?" His lips barely moved as he spoke. "That's not who you are."
Xena swallowed hard, the words wrapping around her like a slow, smothering heat.
"You're a warrior," he murmured, his grip adjusting just enough to slide against her skin. "A conqueror. A woman who takes what she wants, who fights, who burns through anything that gets in her way." His lips twitched into something close to a smirk. "That's the Xena I know."
Xena's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding harder at his words. But just as quickly as the heat threatened to pull her under, something else surged through her—rage. Disgust. At him. At herself.
Her jaw clenched, and she twisted her arms free from his grip, yanking herself back. "No," she said, her voice sharp, shaking. "That's not who I am."
Ares tilted his head, watching her carefully, but she was already stepping away, shaking her head. "You think you know me? You think you can just whisper a few sweet words, remind me of who I used to be, and I'll fall back into your arms?" She let out a short, bitter laugh. "You don't know a damn thing."
Ares smirked, his voice low and certain. "I know you feel it."
Xena's stomach twisted, her chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. She looked at him, disgust tightening her features, then turned and walked away, her steps quick and unrelenting as she made her way back to camp.
Ares didn't stop her.
But she could feel his eyes on her the whole way.