Disclaimer: Don't own any of them. I'm too young to get sued.
Rated: I dunno. PG 13
I thought it was horrible that they didn't even show Ares sad after Xena died, AND I'M POSITIVE HE WAS SAD!!! So, here.
Destiny
By Atrophy
'The girl rode slowly, blindly, letting the stallion pick his own route. The pain in her heart had faded to a dull throb if she blanked her mind, but at times it would return, harsh and excruciating. She didn't have a choice, the walls, the welcome barriers grew each passing moment she buried her pain. She hadn't cried, she would never cry. So they thought of her as a monster, a murderess; she didn't need them, she didn't need any of them! Riding endlessly, never sleeping, barely eating, she didn't care about the future. It was nothing. She lost her brother, the only one who truly understood her. Her mother didn't understand; if she understood, she wouldn't be calling her a murderer with the rest of them. The girl closed her eyes, dull gray eyes that used to be blue, holding only emptiness, and sighed mentally. Her mother was right; her mother was always right. It was her fault. It was her fault her brother was a cold corpse. It was her fault so many people were sad or dead. They were right to hate her. The teenager's self-loathing thought process ground to a halt as the pain, renewed, suddenly swamped her, engulfed her, and she pitched off the ugly mottled brown horse. Cracking her head hard against the packed dirt floor of the path, she lay still. Why should she move? It wasn't as if anyone would be looking for her. Her brother might have, but he was dead... The pain in her head was a welcome distraction from the coldness she felt permeating her battered spirit, emanating from the patch of unfeeling ice where her heart used to be. She would never cry.
A shrill scream nearby roused her from her trance-like state. Dragging herself back on her feet, ignoring the insistant throbbing in the back of her skull, the girl searched for the source of the noise invading her thoughts. Hauling herself back into the saddle, she followed the sound, it was basic instinct. The girl had no idea why she was headed that way, beats heading no way.
The robbers, one holding the elderly woman, one rifling through her basket, paused in their actions when they heard the pounding of hoofbeats on the path. Hurriedly drawing their weapons, they turned to face the oncoming threat. They weren't at all expecting the sight that reached their eyes: a tall girl, her long black hair streaming behind her, dressed in dirty leathers, galloping over the rise.
Momentarily stunned, the highwaymen didn't respond when the girl reined in hard and ordered in a calm, flat voice, "Let her go."
The man holding the old woman suddenly blinked, and sneered, "Make me."
At the provocation, the teenager flipped effortlessly over the horse's head and landed just in front of the robber with the basket, smoothly drawing her sword and knocking the man back with a snap-kick.
Ares, the god of war, stood off the shoulder of the road, in a stand of trees, fascinated despite himself with the tall girl who was fighting the bandits. She wasn't the best warrior he had ever seen. She wouldn't have stood a chance against some of his generals, but she had this strange fire, scorching, blinding, that originated deep inside her and showed in her now vivid blue eyes. Ares watched, enthralled. What the girl lacked in skill, she almost made up for with speed and strategy. The girl had knocked one man unconscious, and had just forced the other one, the one who was said: 'Make me', onto his knees. His nose was bleeding profusely as he begged for mercy from the strange girl with the flames in her eyes. As the girl hesitated, Ares saw in her mind's eye a man, a raider, dead on the ground, his lifeblood pumping out of a long, fatal gash in his chest. A sword, stained red with blood, clattered to the ground. Her first kill, the wargod realised, and recent too. Ares took a closer look at the girl. She couldn't have been more than eighteen winters old, and very beautiful too. Ares recognized the blank, cold cast to her features, the numbness of a recent loss. The girl's arm tensed, and she plunged the sword into the robber's chest, piercing his heart.
When the old woman, in gratitude, convinced the girl to be a guest at the tavern she ran for free, and led the way to the nearby village of Naridon, Ares found himself following. He was genuinely intrigued with this girl who, at her age, was capable of cold-blooded murder.
The girl slouched at a table, nursing a mug of warm cider; she didn't glance up when someone joined her. "Go away." She mumbled vaguely.
The man didn't budge. "I couldn't help but notice your fight with the robbers, and your murdering of that man."
The girl's dark head snapped up, and Ares nearly staggered at the force of anger and fire that spewed from her darkened blue eyes. He had struck a nerve, he realised; she had been called a murderer before.
"I did not murder him!" The girl raged. "He was scum!"
Ares raised a black eyebrow, "And that gave you the right to play executioner?"
The girl's jaw clenched, but she said nothing. He was right.
Ares stared steadily at her until she lowered her gaze. "How old are you?"
"Twenty."
The war deity's brow rose again. "And I'm the goddess of love."
Her jaw tightened at his droll drawl, "Fine. Fourteen...nearly."
"You're a pretty good fighter," Ares commented, "Not the best. There are many who are better, but you fight with an intelligence very few possess."
"Gee, thanks."
Ares chose to overlook the sarcastic tone of her voice. "With my help, you can be so much better than any warrior in the world." He lifted her chin, to see uncertainty and pride warring in her eyes. "You felt the rush of power today, when you had total control over the life and future of that robber. It felt good, didn't it? Makes you so strong... What if that power, that incredible power was part of your life every waking moment? Wouldn't that feel so much better?" The girl's eyes fluttered shut at the seductive power of his voice...
Her steely eyes flew open, and Ares saw that a wall had slammed up, a strong, defensive wall that kept him out. "Who in Tartarus are you?" The girl demanded.
"My name is Ares." He offered his hand. "What's your name?"
The girl clasped his hand, blue eyes narrowed skeptically. "Ares, as in god of war? Yeah, right."
"You don't have to believe me, but I'm the one offering to make you the greatest warrior alive."
She pulled her hand away from his burning grasp; he had sent a surge of power up her arm. If he wasn't Ares, he was a god nonetheless. "Why would the god of war offer that to a girl?"
"'Cause you've got potential. I can feel it, and wasted potential is the greatest sin of all."
The girl frowned suspiciously.
Ares sighed, "I'm not trying to get you to do anything extreme or unethnical, I'm just offering to train you. I'm offering the chance to be a legend."
She shrugged. "That doesn't matter. Nothing matters now..."
"What do you mean nothing matters?" Ares' voice rose angrily. "Are you going to let a bunch of idiots keep you from your true destiny? You know you have a great destiny awaiting you, they knew!" Ares was taking a shot in the dark, but from the girl's expression, he could see he had scored a bull's eye. "They tried to stop you because they were jealous. But no one can stop you, you can show them all what you can be, what you are meant to be. I'm here to help. I can show you the way to your destiny!"
The girl nodded, tranfixed by the god's powerful gaze. How she longed to feel that power. It wiped away the pain, the lonliness; it was incredible. "My destiny..."
Ares grinned smugly at his victory. He stroked the teenager's black hair gently. "Go get some sleep, I'll come for you in the morning."
It was only after the girl nodded her assent and strode off to her room, that Ares realized she hadn't told him her name.
"... and this is your room." Ares pushed upon the blackened door, revealing a richly decorated expanse of room. The low bed was covered in silky sheets of fiery colours, and heavy midnight blue drapes fluttered in the cool breeze. Low tables and chairs of the same hard, black wood were scattered about the room, some draped with mauve hued sheets with golden fringes. A tray of fine meats, cheese, and fruits rested on the largest table, accompanied by an earthen jar of sweet wine. The girl had been introduced to the god's best warriors, the ones she would be expected to defeat after her training, and sat in during a sparring session. When she was goaded into taking a turn, she did surprisingly well, going through about half a dozen men before she was taken out. The god of war deftly poured out a goblet of the wine and handed it to the girl. In interested innocence, she took a big swallow, and immediately choked. Ares rubbed her back amusedly, realizing the teenager had never drunk alcohol before. As the sputtering died down, he snapped his fingers, and announced, "I've made you up a hot bath. You look like you could use one." His gaze took in her bedraggled state. "Come find me in the great hall tomorrow at dawn for training." Grinning at himself for the paternal tone of his voice, he sauntered out, leaving the girl to bathe alone. Or rather, let her think she was alone. As she undressed, Ares opened a porthole and watched with a critical eye. She was thin, hardly developed, obviously still in the early stages of puberty. She would of course grow, but for some reason... her small, high breasts excited him more than the sight of the cow-sized endowments flaunted before him throughout his long life. For now, Ares merely watched; there would be time enough.
The girl crashed to the ground, Ares' sword at her throat once more. She hadn't realized that the god himself would train her. She sighed dejectedly, rising to her feet with the man's help. Ares chuckled, "Don't worry. You didn't expect to actually defeat me the first day, did you?" The girl's striking blue eyes cleared thoughtfully, and she shook her head. "Now that you mention it, no."
Ares gazed steadily at the exquisite girl. "You have made amazing progress though. You pick up the patterns and drills like this," he snapped his fingers. "And you are immediately able to incorporate them into your fight."
"Thank you." She replied automatically. "I just need experience, right?"
Ares stared blandly. "That would help." She fascinated him: she wasn't afraid of him, for she had nothing more to lose, and she wasn't sickeningly obseqious. She was intelligent and strong beyond her years, and she had this iron will, unending perseverence. The god's mind wandered back to the thought he had been strangely trying to avoid: She was damn beautiful.
The girl lowered her head, trying to hide her flushed cheeks from the god's penetrating stare.
'Mysterious too,' Ares turned to lead the way out of the early night. She still refused to tell him her name. Every time he asked, she tactfully changed the subject. One thing he did know though. He wasn't stupid; she had a crush on him.
"Tomorrow, we'll work on quarterstaff drills. I assume you have some experience?"
Ares saw a fleeting flash of pain cross her features, before the growing wall slammed down. "Yes, I do."
"Then it should be a breeze, and we can move onto hidden weapons and hand-to-hand." He held the door open and waited for the girl to enter. "Go take a short bath and come dine with me. A change of clothes will be provided."
She nodded and strode off, her sweat-matted hair swaying gently, a raven tangle.
The teenager tugged self-consciously at her new silver dress with the comfortable empire waist, as she slipped apprehensively into the dining hall. Ares froze in mid-step and stared. She was completely feminine, with her long dark hair sporting a few thin braids, contrasting the black silk. The dress he had picked out off-handedly highlighted her growing curves to perfection. The soft candlelight darkened her azure eyes to a dusky violet. The god felt a surge of lust, and took a long stride toward her. The girl stepped back hurriedly, startled by the intense heat in his gaze, and again stopping him in his tracks. He clearly saw the stark terror she was desperately trying to hide in her eyes. He stared for a moment longer. This was a teenager, a girl, a virgin. He wouldn't touch her until she was ready, until she begged for it. Ares laughed softly. When his Chosen was legendary, she would be his, and his alone...
He was still staring at her, with his dark, deep eyes, an unfathomable expression on his handsome features. The girl squirmed uncomfortably, and the god seemed to snap out of a trance. Quickly, he pulled a chair out for her, and reached for the liquor. "Well, girl, another thing we have to do is teach you how to drink."
"Is that necessary?" The girl remembered the burning sensation the wine had caused the last time.
"No, but it's good." He took in her look of resignation. "Just don't take huge gulps."
The girl shot him an insulted glare, but said nothing, only taking a small sip. The wine burned as much as before, it just didn't choke her.
Satisfied, Ares took his seat and reached for his goblet of nectar.
The girl swung her sword in an arcing sweep, and yelled, a shrill, unnerving war cry that chilled Ares to the bone. Blocking the god's thrust, she immediately followed with a back-kick to his chest. Ares, off-balance, staggered backward with an "oof". The girl grinned widely at him. That was the first blow she had ever landed on him. Following up her advantage, she stepped up for the finishing blow, but Ares knocked her down with a quick sweep of his leg. As the god helped her up, he complimented her on her growing skill; no one ever said he didn't give praise when it was deserved. "That was very good. You really do learn fast. And that war cry, amazing, have you used it before?"
The girl smiled wordlessly, and shook her head. The war cry had come to her just then, and it had seemed so right. She knew she would use it again.
"That's all I can teach you, unfortunately. After you leave, remember to practice those drills. In time, you will be the best warrior around these parts. Then you can destroy the people who hurt you, you can show them!"
The motivational speech didn't have the desired effect on the teenager. She frowned. "But, I can't do that to my family." She protested.
Ares' inward gloating screeched to a halt. She still cared about her people. The god sighed. He had forgotten this might take some time. "Then don't kill them. You can prove to them how incredible you can be in other ways. You could rid the world of filthy, bloodthirsty pirates or something." His voice was sullen, but he noticed how the girl's face lifted.
"Yes, I could; and I could take what the pirates stole and send it home..."
A corner of Ares' lips lifted. "Yes, you could." And after that, you can be my warrior queen...
He made a small gesture with his right hand. "You'll find a ship in the harbour at Marpessa, unguarded. You can easily take it over. Recruit a small crew, and go for it!"
The girl laughed humourlessly. "I can be a pirate that takes out other pirates, huh?"
"If you look at it that way. But it's for the greater good; those pirates are scum."
The girl smirked, and easily swung herself onto her horse; the stallion would be sold when she reached Marpessa. "Just like that robber was scum?" She was referring to the execution they spoke of when they had first met. When he didn't answer, she inclined her dark head gracefully. "I'll see you around then."
Ares smiled as he brought her face down to brush her lips with his. "Go with the gods."
Slightly startled by the kiss, the girl rode the horse to the heavy metal gate. Suddenly, she reined in and glanced back, a wild, feral expression on her chiseled features. "By the way,"
Ares stared inquisitively.
"My name is Xena."
The girl galloped off, her raven locks wipping in the wind, and Ares stood, gazing after her. "Xena..."'
The tall man in the bar finished his story, and took a huge draught of ale, wincing as the liquor burned a fiery trail down his gullet. Ares, the god of war lowered the mug, and stared down the empty container with a perplexed expression only a drunk could achieve.
Then he swung his head around at a new voice. "So you set her on that ship." Gabrielle, the Battling Bard of Poteidaia wandered into the tavern, having heard the god's story. Her hand rested lightly on a shiny, bi-coloured metal ring hanging at her belt. It was her chakram, her legacy of Xena.
"Yep." Ares sighed. "I began to teach her how to fight, and I made her a pirate." He shook his head, dead sober. "I gave her a destiny that wasn't her own."
"Bull." A feminine voice, quiet but incredibly clear and strong, rolled through the stagnant air in the tavern. "I don't believe in destiny." Ares and Gabrielle stared, in awe, as a tall, dark haired woman wound her way to their side through the crowd.
"Xena..." The god and the bard breathed at the same time. "But, you're..." Gabrielle stuttered, a rare happening.
"Dead. Yeah, I know." Xena gently pushed back a lock of Gabrielle's hair. "I'm just here 'cause Aphrodite wanted me to get Ares out of his 'funk' as she put it. Ares may have put me on wrong path, but that wasn't all he did. At that time," The Warrior Princess' gaze took on a faraway cast, "I was ready to quit, ready to give up. I didn't have a path." She swung her head around to regard Ares seriously. "He saved me, gave me back the will to live." She backed away from the bar, and the two warriors noticed that she was becoming alarmingly transparent. "I owe him my life." The whisper hung in the air, even after the woman vanished.
The remaining warriors glanced at each other. "Did you...?" Gabrielle let the question hang.
"Yeah, I saw her." A tiny smile twitched at the corner of Ares' mouth, reflecting his joy at seeing his beloved again.
Gabrielle turned back to the empty space where the ghost was, staring intensely.
Suddenly, she swung her head around. "She had a crush on..."
She broke off; the god of war had gone.
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