Chapter 8

The Halls of War were quiet, like a village at dawn. Still, but somehow alive. The dark stone walls gleamed dimly in the low torchlight, barely registering the sudden flicker of light emanating from the two emerging goddesses. It was a sparsely decorated space, weapons of great heroes and warriors lining the wall between stark Doric pillars. At the end of the hall was a black throne of leather and bones, silver entwining the horrid skulls that tipped the arm rests. Behind it, on the wall, was the symbol of Ares' godhood, his sigil.

Artemis moved carefully and quietly as she approached the throne. Her senses uncountable were honed to her surroundings. Behind her Callisto trailed, similarly graceful but somehow more unhinged and careless than her conspirator.

"It looks like nobody's home," said Callisto, smoothly and with glee.

"Looks can be deceiving," said Artemis.

"Do you think he's done it? Shifted his mantle into his sword?"

Artemis nodded, a shadow of a smile on the corner of her lips. "I can feel it. His power... it's almost like a muffled voice." She signalled for Callisto to follow her, and she turned to the left, disappearing into the shadows. In the corner of the huge hall was an archway into a corridor.

The corridor was in darkness, but from a doorway up ahead stole the golden light of torches. They moved swiftly down the hall and peered into the room.

His lair, as it were. This room was much smaller than the hall and far more intimate. It was where Ares brought those that he deemed important. The walls were richly decorated with blood-red drapes, and about a table were arranged luxurious looking divans. His finest weapons were on display, in racks and on the walls. The focus of the room upon entering, however, was an elaborate altar that was dramatically lit with candles and torches. Red figure vases told grand stories of Ares' exploits, all greatly exaggerated. In between them was a large, soft pillow, upon which sat the article of their desire: Ares' sword.

Callisto rushed forward, a grin on her face, until Artemis' quick hand gripped the crook of her elbow.

"Wait... we do not know if this is a trick."

Callisto lifted a brow with an air of scepticism. "You honestly think he's that cunning?"

Artemis tipped her head. "You don't know him like I do, child. Never underestimate his ability for deception."

She stepped forward slowly, looking around the sword, using senses unknowable to mortal minds to check for any tricks. She frowned deeply.

"It seems that he has left his sword here in the open, unguarded..."

"Good," said Callisto, and promptly rushed forward and grabbed the sword before Artemis could say another word.

She lifted it up into the air, ready to absorb the godly mantle of war, a grin on her face. Nothing happened. The sword pointed skywards, glinting in its polished state but entirely inert. Callisto's grin faded as she brought it down, a scowl growing on her lips.

"He didn't put his godhood in this, did he?"

Artemis shook her head. "Obviously not. Oh, he is a wily one. We'll have to spy him out, see if he gives some sign as to where he's hidden it."

Callisto sighed heavily. "Or we could just find him and kill him."

Artemis glared at her. "Are you mad?"

Callisto just lifted an eyebrow at her.

The older goddess shook her head. "That is not the way we do things in the Pantheon, Callisto. There are rules and morals that must be obeyed. Natural laws of gods and men. If we don't, there will be chaos."

Looking down at the sword in her hands, Callisto tilted her head casually, fingering the tip of it. "I don't know. Chaos sounds kind of interesting."

"Put it out of your mind, or I put you back in the ground," said Artemis sharply. "We are doing this my way. We will watch him. Besides... he is with Xena. That is dangerous enough. He might just get himself killed without either of us having to lift a finger."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Artemis glared at her. "In that event, we will be innocent, and you may take the mantle without challenge."

Callisto sighed, tossing Ares' sword back onto the cushion on the altar behind her. She scowled at Artemis again.

"The godhood of war better be worth all this, Artemis," she said. "Because this is severely trying my patience."

At that, she stalked angrily out of the room. Artemis folded her arms, following behind her.

"I wasn't aware that you had any."

The commander's entry into the tent was not a quiet affair. The clanking of armour and the frantic sound of the commander's voice yanked Mallecium unmercifully from sleep. He groaned and rolled over, senses muzzy, anger so deep in his body he could feel his stomach clench compulsively. His voice was a low, angry growl, rolling over his exhausted breath.

"Polcus," he said to the commander, "Have you taken leave of your senses, or have you merely forgotten that I have trouble getting to sleep at night?"

"I'm sorry, my Lord!" said Commander Polcus. "I am loath to disturb you, but I have news of the Warrior Princess!"

He sat up compulsively, even though he wasn't entirely awake yet. "Where is she?"

"Some of our men were in Minoeta, at the town tavern. There was a couple there, a beautiful woman in a dress and a big tough guy with long dark hair and a beard."

"Wait... no feisty little blonde with a stick?" Mallecium cocked his head, sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for his brain to properly wake.

"No sir, but the woman nearly beat the big guy in an arm-wrestle. One of the guys thought she threw the match. When he called 'em on it, a fight broke out and the woman pulled out that round killing thing – it has to be Xena."

Narrowing his eyes, Mallecium eyed Polcus judiciously. "If it is Xena, which I don't doubt, this means she's gotten outside help to deal with me." He rubbed his scratchy bearded chin thoughtfully. "Did our men try to capture them?"

"Yes sir, but they got away."

"Keep the mercenaries on the look-out for them. No uniforms in numbers, not yet. We don't want to spook the towns before we're ready to make our move. Search the town up and down, but no rough-housing the locals."

Polcus saluted. "Yes, sir."

"Hey, this guy... was he good lookin'?"

Commander Polcus blinked. "Sir?"

"Answer the question."

"I have no idea, Sir."

"Hmm..." said Mallecium. "It's a very big coincidence, isn't it?"

"What is, Sir?"

"A man that might be a God causes a ruckus in Minoeta. The same day, the Warrior Princess is seen with a man that seems to fit the description of the possible God that was reported of earlier in the day. All while I'm about to take this string of towns..." Mallecium rubbed his eyes, growling under his breath. "The little blonde must be nearby. I'll bet my teeth she's in the forest somewhere."

"Shall we send some scouts into the forest?"

Mallecium shook his head thoroughly. "No, not yet. We'll lose them in there, and if a small number comes across Xena or her little bard, they won't last five seconds. Send a group out in the early morning light. That way they'll stand half a chance. The main priority is to get the bard. She's Xena's weak point."

Polcus nodded. "Will that be all, Sir?"

Mallecium waved him off. "Go. I need to try to get some damned sleep."

"Yes, Sir."

As the clanking of Polcus' uniform receded into the distance, Mallecium settled down back on his cot. He hated being interrupted during his sleep, more than anything else. And now, he knew it would be impossible for him to return to it. Xena was here, with help. He had a certain strange sense of relief. He hated waiting, he hated not knowing. But now that he knew, it would be all right. He could sidestep the slash of a sword if he saw it coming.

He wanted, more than anything, to face Xena. If he could defeat her, his success in this part of Greece would be assured. And then, then Mycenae and Athens could be his.

Gabrielle was sure that when she'd fallen asleep, she'd been snuggled up to Joxer. She shifted under the pelts, groaning at the dull, thick throbbing in her head that threatened to be a horrible headache. Never again, never again, she thought, glancing at the amphora of Godly wine ruefully. She sat up, searching out her water skin. She was surprised to see that Joxer was nowhere around her.

"Where's he gone?" she muttered to herself as she pulled a bag over and looked for the water skin. She grabbed it triumphantly, but upon pulling the cork out, was annoyed to find it empty. "Damn it."

She didn't really want to move. Her eyelids felt heavy as sandbags, and her limbs like rocks. Her tongue felt as dry as an Egyptian's sandal, however, so she knew she'd have to get some water down her, lest her hangover get worse. Another thing bothered her – Joxer wasn't around. Now that she'd sat up and woken up a bit, she realised that he wasn't just missing from the bedroll. He wasn't in camp. Gripping the water skin in her hand, she pulled herself carefully up to her feet, peering into the darkness.

"Joxer?"

Nothing. Walking over to the water's edge, she pulled the stopper from the water skin and dipped it into the water. She gazed around her, scanning the dark moonlit night for her foolish friend.

Her heart leapt in her chest with relief as she saw the familiar shape of Joxer down along the shore of the lake, sitting on a large, flat, worn down rock, looking up at the sky.

She took a good long swig of the water now in her water skin before replacing the stopper and trudging slowly towards Joxer.

"Joxer!"

He glanced over to her as she approached him, dipping his head quickly and running his fingers through his hair. It was a sheepish, embarrassed movement.

"Hey," she said gently, sitting down next to him carefully on the large rock. "You okay?"

"Sure," he said. His voice sounded thick, tired. His hair was a mess and he wore just his pants and vest. "You?"

"I am starting to feel quite hungover," she said. "If I drink enough water, I might escape the headache."

Joxer nodded. "Yeah, that wine from Olympus is pretty intense stuff."

He sounded so sad, like someone had died. She tilted her head, gazing at him.

"Joxer, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said. "Listen, I understand about what happened before. I'm sorry I let you kiss me, I'm a total jerk. Tomorrow I'll move on and you and Xena can get back to -"

Blinking, Gabrielle felt her throat constrict. "Joxer... what in Tartarus are you talking about?"

"I'm not stupid," he said. "You're a special, amazing woman, and I know that sometimes, you feel sorry for me. I appreciate it, I just want you to know that it's okay, I don't labour under the delusion that you're madly in love with me."

"I'm sorry, did I wake up in totally the wrong universe? Cause I'm pretty sure that when I went to sleep a few hours ago, I had told you that I had feelings for you."

He looked over his shoulder at her. There was fear in his eyes.

"Well, the wine was from the Gods. I thought... I thought maybe when you sobered up-"

She snorted, shaking her head and reaching for his hand. "Joxer, you're an idiot."

He looked down as she took his hand, wonder and confusion on his face.

"The alcohol might have impaired my ability to walk in a straight line, but I swear, there's no amount of wine in this entire world to make me kiss you if I don't want to."

He shook his head at himself. "I just never thought you'd even consider me as, you know..."

"Well, you were wrong," she said, pulling his hand into her lap. "Ha-ha!" she added, sing-song, pointing her finger at him.

Finally, she saw the shadow of a smile on his lips.

"Good," he said. "I'm glad I was wrong this time."

She sighed with some relief, ignoring the knot of worry in her chest. Was it always going to be like this? Would he always doubt himself?

"Come on, Joxer," she said, tenderly. "Come back to the camp with me."

"Are you sure?"

It was a loaded question. It was asking her more than whether she wanted him in the bedroll with her. She sighed, a worn smile on her groggy face.

"Joxer... don't make me drag you back to camp."

She could just see the grin that broke out across his face in the darkness of night. She pulled on his hand, walking back to the camp-fire. It was low now, nearly embers. Grabbing a couple of logs, she shoved them into the coals, blowing roughly on them.

She watched him as he climbed under the pelts, enjoying the warm flowering feelings in her heart and the complete novelty of feeling these things at all for Joxer. Yes, there was fear, there was worry. Would this work out? Would she lose him like she lost Perdicas? Perdicas had been so strong, and Joxer, his vulnerability was terrifying.

He looked up at her after he'd settled in, dark brown eyes warm and thankful, and her heart felt fit to burst.

She tilted her head at him, leaning on her knee. "Joxer..."

"Hmm?"

"Are you hungover at *all*?"

"No way," he said. "I'm a warrior, I never let a drink-" He stopped as Gabrielle lifted her brows, wincing at him. Clearing his throat, he looked down, embarrassed. "I drink so much, I've probably just developed a tolerance."

"That'd be it," she said, abandoning the growing fire, nodding.

Joxer watched her with some surprise as she crawled under the pelts and settled against him.

"Gabby... what's happening here?" He was tentative, his voice almost small, looking anywhere but her face.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, a laugh on her voice. She rested her head on his shoulder rather experimentally, looking thoughtful as she tried it out in a sober state.

"You know what I'm talking about. Here, now. What's going on?"

She flashed a quick smile at him. "What do you think?"

"Will you stop answering my questions with questions?" he asked, a careful tenderness in his eyes.

"Then stop asking me silly questions," she said. "I'm snuggling with you and getting comfortable."

"For how long?" he asked, a gleam of anxiety in his eyes. "Is it long-term snuggling, or casual snuggling? Cause I don't know if I can take it if it's not... I..." He closed his eyes a moment, sighing deeply.

Gabrielle swallowed a chuckle, cupping Joxer's cheek in her hand and looking firmly into his eyes. "Joxer... I'm not going anywhere. I mean, I don't know how this'll turn out, but I do know that I want you around. Always."

He frowned, pushing his lips out in an uncertain pout. "You promise?"

She tilted her head a little, regarding him. A warm smile spread across her lips, and she nodded, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

"Yeah, Joxer, I promise."

Joxer took a deep breath in and sighed heavily, looking at the fire, the corners of his mouth turned up in a strange little smile Gabrielle hadn't seen on his face before. This is Joxer content, she thought. He really is beautiful when he's happy. There was a peace about him that warmed her and reached deep inside her very skin, like sunshine. She rested her head on his shoulder, glancing at the curve of his neck, the line of his arm, his strong hands holding her.

"Joxer," she said.

"Yeah?"

"You never sang that song to me, you know."

He groaned a little. "If I pick up the lute, I have to let go a' you..."

She chuckled. "Don't worry about the lute. I just want to hear your voice."

"All right," he said, rubbing his forehead. He hummed a little to himself, going over the tune, muttering the words, reminding himself of a song he hadn't sung since he was a young teen for his mother. "Okay, I'm gonna try to remember this... Hum hum..." He cleared his throat and started.

"Unrivalled voice of the Bard of Rodophe,

The ill-fated marriage was known.

For Eurydice's days were too soon cut short

In the meadows where their love was sown."

Joxer sang carefully, and Gabrielle could tell he was nervous. Her hunch was right. He *did* have a good voice. It was deep and somewhat reedy, but warm and sensual somehow. She listened as he told the sad story of Orpheus and Eurydice, of the bard's descent into the Underworld to rescue his love. Orpheus begged of Hades to let his dear Eurydice leave the Underworld and live once more.

"Great Hades," he sang, "I beg of you humbly,

If you must take my dear love from me,

Then soon I shall join her here down below,

What good is this life without love, you see?"

Gabrielle felt her heart swell with Joxer's refrain, and she squeezed him in her arms. He chuckled, catching her hands.

"Gab, I can't sing if you squeeze me like that," he said.

"Sing the rest later," she said, shifting and leaning atop of him, her eyes watching her fingers as they toyed with the edge of his vest. He took a ragged breath in as her fingers found the wooden buttons of the threadbare cloth, plucking them free. She pushed the vest aside a touch, smiling ever so slightly, his skin looking warm and milky in the dim firelight.

She felt him clutch her as she drew her finger along his collarbone, down the dip between his pectoral muscles. She couldn't help but grin as he shuddered.

"That tickles," he breathed.

"That's interesting," she said, tapping her chin and considering the skin exposed by the now open vest. "Where else are you ticklish?"

A slow grin spread across his face. "You're about to find out."

She narrowed her eyes a touch, a pert little smirk on her lips. "Are you sure? The last time I did that, you wanted me to stop."

"You were drunk," he said. "We both were."

"And now we're not," murmured Gabrielle, her fingers finding the buttons of his vest again as she shifted closer to him. Her eyes gazed into his with a mischievous sparkle.

"Right, we're..." He gulped. "We're completely sober."

Joxer leant back as Gabrielle moved over him, the burning desire and tenderness in his expression unmistakeable. It made Gabrielle dizzy. She wanted to enclose him, embrace him, take him into her heart. She hovered so close to him, her body barely inches above his, a delighted grin on her face at his adoring submission.

She pushed his vest over his shoulders, her hand skimming his sternum and collar bones. Joxer shuddered, his eyes dropping closed.

"Oh Joxer," she sighed, dropping a kiss at the corner of his mouth. She could feel him melt at the touch, and her heart shuddered happily.

He made a little noise, turning his head and capturing her lips, his hands finding her shoulders. It was an insistent caress, one that made her lose sense of time and place. They fell back against the pelt, Gabrielle opening her lips to his. She parried playfully, tongue against tongue, giggling under her breath as he took the challenge.

"You're a very naughty bard," he murmured between kisses.

"I can't help it," she said. "Not when you've been such a good sidekick."

He stopped, growling playfully. "I'm a hero."

She leant back from the kiss, lifting a brow. "Oh yeah? Prove it."

There was a flicker of a smile on Joxer's lips before he pressed them to hers, his hand diving into her thick honey-gold hair and cradling the back of her neck. There was no giggling now, no stopping.

She couldn't believe the feelings that she felt in that moment. There was nothing else. Nothing. There was no divide. There was Joxer, and her, and their unity. The sky, the lake, the ground, the fire, it was all echoes, all framing. It was the scrolls and the ink. And yet this feeling that they'd become – that was the story.

She wasn't sure how long they lay there, breathing, feeling. Joxer lifted his head, almost apologetically, gulping and sighing heavily.

"Wow."

She nodded gulping back at him. "That was-"

"It was-"

"-I've never-"

"-Me either," he said.

She turned her head and looked at him, dead in the eyes. "I knew it could be good. I knew it could be. But I didn't think-" Joxer's brows tilted up curiously. "-I didn't know it could be like that."

"Like what?"

She shook her head, peering up at the stars above them in wonder. "Like it pulled me apart and then put me back together again." She smiled blissfully.

Joxer let out a funny sound, something between a laugh an a sigh, and he dipped his head.

"What?"

He shook his head, looking both sheepish and achingly beautiful. "Nothin'... it's just..." He met her eyes with a fearful honesty. "I feel like I've waited my whole life to see you look like that, cause 'a' somethin' I've done."

Her smile broadened, and she drifted the back of her hand down the side of his face.

"It's funny... I never thought you could make me feel like this. And now that I'm feeling it, I don't want to have it any other way."

A sigh left him as he swooped down and kissed her firmly, clutching her to him tightly. Soon they would have to part, to clean themselves up, to settle down to bed, as tomorrow it was back to business. But for now, now Gabrielle lost herself in something new and wonderful.