Force of Habit

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or general back-story. There, are you happy you corporate lugs? Yeah? Well you suck! Fanfic writers are better than you at spinning stories!
…
(cough)
Sex/ language/ violence: yes/ yes/ am I not predictable? Big fat yes.
Rating: R

AN: This is just a fantasy of mine. I thought Goddess of War was really onto something there with the story Warrior Prince. It's a beautiful idea. There's such an amazing contrast between your reaction when Xena is being mean to Ares and when their situations are reversed. They do everything for the exact same reasons, but it feels so different.
This was supposed to by my version of what would happen. Unfortunately, I was utterly unable to portray Xena as the victim, so I sank into sarcasm. (gets down on knees) Please forgive me. If you don't get too caught up with the melodrama and cheesy imagery, it's pretty funny.

Xena nailed her throne with a sloppy kick. Cracks raced over the black marble finish before the entire thing collapsed into a pile of rubble.

She swore. "I liked that one."

She kicked a larger piece again, and it flew through the air, smashing a decorative urn.

"Well, aren't you destructo girl today?"

Oh, shit. She did not want to face her annoyingly perceptive sister today.

"Go away, Aphrodite."

"Sorry. No can do. Daddy wants to know what's wrong with his favourite daughter." A burst of pink bubbles, and jagged pieces of the throne jumped up and reassembled in the shape of the throne.

Maliciously, Xena blasted it into oblivion again.

Aphrodite gasped, "You so did not do that! Daddy's going to be so pissed! He gave you that for your five hundredth birthday!"

The raven-haired Goddess of War hissed softly between her teeth, "I know. Two years before his darling Athena cracked his skull open, and he forgot about the rest of us. Favourite daughter, my ass."

The Goddess of Love reached out and spun her taller sister around, a penetrating look in her cornflower eyes.

"What?" Xena's ice blue pools narrowed. People always found it strange that War and Love could be such good friends. Aphrodite was as blonde as Xena was dark. Aphrodite's soothing, cheerful sunny-ness was well loved on Olympus, but Xena's unpredictable violence and temper was to be avoided at all costs. They were perceived as light and dark, good and evil, yet still all gods and underlings had learned early on that to mess with Aphrodite was to suffer the wargoddess's terrible wrath.

They would never tell anyone, but the wargoddess had been spiralling down a path of sheer evil that would have resulted in nothing but destruction, and only Aphrodite saw how lonely she'd been. Braving Xena's fury, Aphrodite had tried to save her, and though they had slipped farther and farther down, it had been enough. She held on long enough for Xena to find him.

Granted, the pigheaded goddess was still stuck on thinking that he'd betrayed her and that she was angry with him, but Aphrodite thought she was making progress.

"What did he do this time?"

Xena jerked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please, sis. I'm not that blonde. Look."

Aphrodite's curls were now as dark as Xena's. The wargoddess bit back a laugh.

"I think you need to talk," Aphrodite said decisively. "Hey, maybe I can be your mediator thing!"

"No!"

"Are you going or not?"

Xena looked away in defeat, and her sister clapped her hands, giggling gleefully.

"Mom!" Ares called, swinging himself from atop his palomino. He rubbed Argo's nose soothingly, promising a good rub-down and fresh oats.

A short, slender woman stepped hurriedly from the inn, wiping her hands on a well-worn dishtowel. "Ares!" A brilliant smile lit her face, framed by dark auburn curls. "Welcome home!" She embraced him fiercely before turning to hug his best friend and travelling companion, Joxer.

Ares bit back a sigh, knowing that despite Joxer's inherent clumsiness, the two talkative friends would strike up some sort of immediate, engaging conversation and be entertained the entire time he would be taking care of Argo. Sometimes he was just the... least bit jealous. When he had to say something to piss someone off, or when he had to manipulate someone for some reason, he was quite adept. But when it came to casual conversation, he was in the middle of a labyrinth with no magical ball of twine.

He picked up the reins and led Argo around to the stables.

With quick, sure hands, he stripped the mare of her saddle and gear, setting to work with a soft bristled brush and cloth.

"Sulking in the corners again, Ares?"

A rush of some strange warmth filled his chest before he viciously clamped it down. It was probably just because he didn't really want to be alone at this time. "What do you want?" Yeah. That was probably it.

"Oh, I just wanted to congratulate you for destroying any future attempt at peace in Hermia."

He glanced sharply at her and blanched. "What are you doing?"

The goddess smirked and adjusted her ruffled skirt. "Thought I'd put up a bit of an effort, make a good impression on your mother. Do you like it?" She flipped her long hair to hang like a sheet of black over her shoulder.

"You are not meeting my mother." It was hard to sound threatening while her soft, parted lips looked so utterly enticing. Dark sapphire fire flickered in a brief flash of anger, and Ares couldn't help but let his tongue quickly wet his lips.

"Why not?"

"Because you're evil." He mentally slapped himself for the lame rebuttal.

A genuine smile flitted briefly over her lips. "You like evil," she drawled. "It turns you on."

"Xena—"

"You going to stop me?" she challenged before picking up another brush to work on Argo's other flank.

Considering that she was the one who had taught him all about the proper care of a horse, particularly a warhorse, he wasn't surprised at her deft expertise. It was just that he'd never seen her do something so... mortal. No, he corrected himself, not mortal. Human.

She didn't seem to be holding a grudge, considering that last time she'd shown up, he stuck a sword into her.

Argo twisted her long neck to lip at Xena's clothes, recognizing the goddess as a regular source of sugar lumps.

A smug grin on her face, the goddess tilted her head to look at him. "What are you looking at?"

To his horror, Ares felt himself flush. He looked away and cursed steadily under his breath, ignoring her laugh.

Ares ducked his head when they entered the tavern to avoid Joxer's eyes, but his friend's wild gesticulations were visible from the corner of his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Cyrene glanced between the two before settling on Xena.

"Mom," Ares started, "this—"

Xena stepped smoothly in front of him and extended her arm, "My name is Xena."

Cyrene's hand rose reflexively before fluttering to her chest. "Xe—Xena?"

"Yeah," Ares said, uncomfortably aware of the sudden silence. "Goddess of War."

"Oh…"

Xena's hand dipped. She was ready to cut her losses and leave when a small, warm hand folded into hers.

A tentative smile on her face, Cyrene said, "Cyrene. Welcome to my tavern, Goddess."

"'Xena' is fine."

Ares muffled a snort, recognizing the suave, oh-so-charming tone.

"Ares!"

He gave his mother a guilty glance. "What?"

"Be polite to our guests."

"But she's not—"

Xena cut him off by dangling a pouch in his face and shaking it so that it jingled.

"Help Xena with her bags, Ares."

"But she doesn't—"

Two huge sacks landed on the ground in front of him with a thud. He shot her a black look, hefted one of the sacks, and swore loudly.

"Ares!"

Grumbling, he headed toward the stairs.

His mother caught up with him when he'd reached the top. "You know," she said quietly, "I think I would have preferred Aphrodite or— or maybe Artemis."

"Excuse me?" Xena's outraged voice rose from the bottom of the staircase. "Artemis? With the prissy gold bikini?"

When Xena made her way silently down the stairs the next morning, before daybreak, Cyrene was already in the kitchen.

"Good morning."

The goddess froze. "Uh, morning." She stood by the steps, debating whether or not to give in to her curiosity. She gave. "How did you know I was here?"

Cyrene turned with a knowing smile. "You move just like my son." She gestured toward a long table laden with food. "Sit down and have breakfast."

"I don't need to—"

"You do now."

Xena raised her hands in mock surrender and took a seat.

Ares stopped at the foot of the stairs. She was back in her glossy black leathers, sword and scabbard belted to the back of her silver-studded tunic. He'd die before he admitted it, but he much preferred her leathers. Like this… Gods. She exuded sex. A bowl of apple cinnamon porridge was placed before her, and, as he watched, the tip of her tongue flicked out to lick a sweet drop from her wooden spoon.

Oh, gods. Callisto. Callisto killing Perdican, Joxer's poor wife. Callisto naked. Callisto fucking Joxer. Callisto fucking Xena. OH SHIT. You will go down!

Xena turned to look at him with a puzzled frown, and he slid into a seat in record time, careful to hide... his lower parts from her.

"What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing."

"I can hear you panicking from over here."

"It's nothing."

"Fine. See if I give a damn." Xena swallowed another spoonful of the mush. Mortals liked to eat really strange things.

Ares ate his bowl silently.

"So, what do you people do around here? Anyone you need me to hurt?"

Ares glowered over the table, "We don't do that around here. Some people aren't violent, spiteful bitches."

"Ares!"

"No, it's quite alright, Cyrene," Xena leaned back in her chair, balancing expertly on the two back legs. "Do tell, pet, what do those people who aren't violent, spiteful bitches do these days?" A mocking smirk teased her lips.

With a low growl, Ares kicked under the table. He'd always had very good aim.

Her chair tipped over backward, and Xena crashed to the floor with a small grunt.

"Ares, apologize right now!"

Xena picked herself up and straightened the chair. "It's alright. I never get hurt or anything."

"Ares."

"Sorry," he mumbled, finishing his porridge and standing. "I'll be back in a bit, mom." He strode swiftly out the door. At least the boner had gone away on its own.

Xena popped a grape into her mouth, "Thanks for breakfast, Cyrene. It was delicious."

Cyrene nodded at the goddess as she followed the Warrior Prince out the door.

Outside, Ares unsheathed his blade, thankful that the square was still deserted. The pale pink dawn cast a soft glow on the buildings, but the shadows were still heavy.

Pivoting, he swung, and metal clashed loudly. His heart pounded, blood rushed through his ears, and he threw himself into the fight.

Xena nearly walked into Hera as she entered her Halls of War on Olympus.

"What were you doing?"

"What?"

"You missed our appointment."

"We never do anything on our 'appointments' anyway. I was busy."

Hera gave her daughter a sharp look. "With that man. Ares, is it?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"How many times have I told you never to fall in lov—"

Xena would have gaped if she wasn't the Goddess of War. "You think I'm in love with him? Have you been smoking whatever Apollo's on?"

"You deny this?" The queen of the gods seated herself in her daughter's throne.

"Yes," Xena nearly snarled.

"Then why haven't you killed him?"

"What?" This wasn't good. Hera was throwing her off too much.

"He broke his oath and left your side. Tradition states that you kill him."

"No."

"You kill him to make way for a faithful follower."

"No!"

"Why?"

Xena sputtered, "He's the best warrior I've ever seen! I can't just go and kill him for some personal vendetta!"

"You can't? No. You mean you won't."

"I can't. I swore to never hurt him. He's been loyal for so many years that I owe him that respect."

"You won't kill him."

"No. I don't care if he's sleeping with Athena. I won't kill him."

"Then I will."

"What?" The wargoddess was beginning to feel like she was set on repeat. "Why? This isn't any of your business."

Hera's cool gaze never wavered. "I am your mother. Everything I do is for your best interest." She shook her auburn head ruefully. "Xena, daughter, you are the future of this family. You will rule after your father. You cannot afford to be shackled down."

"You will not go anywhere near him!"

"Why? He's just a mortal. Why do you care?"

Xena was beyond exasperation. "Because I choose to do so. Because unlike you, he's useful to me."

"You will not take that tone with me, Xena," Hera was white with anger. "If you care about him, that is doubly reason to destroy him." She paused, and offered the furious girl an old, old smile, broken and dusty with disuse. "You're my daughter, Xena. Everything I do is so you can have the best, so you can have everything that I couldn't."

"Oh, so it's for the best? You're killing someone I'm rather fond of for my own fucking good?" Xena stood, a suspicious shimmer in her pale eyes, "If you hurt him, I will destroy you. I will hunt you and I will tear you to pieces. You know I can. You taught me."

Hera smiled tightly, "Then you'd better start now."

Xena sucked in a quick breath and vanished.

Ares turned from a table after setting down a couple of mugs of ale, only to see a brilliant green bolt of something heading straight toward him. Then there was a flurry of black, and Xena slammed into a table, splintering it. Green sparks raced over her skin, and her face contorted in discomfort.

Half a dozen creatures with tons of eyes suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and one tried to stab him with a long spear.

"What the fuck?" Ares ducked and rolled. "What did you do this time?"

He watched in shock as the goddess of war launched herself at the creatures, blue flame crackling about her. She was nothing but a shadow as she systematically struck down each monster. She fought like a demon, the only evidence of her blows was the way the things clutched at various body parts.

"Shit," Ares whispered as he saw her get knocked to the ground. Those things were strong. She twisted, her momentum actually causing her to fly up into the air, and kicked. There was a sickening ripping noise, and a creature's head tore off of its body, spraying green blood over the walls.

Taking a deep breath, Ares plunged into the fray, fighting dirty as he made his way to his goddess' side. She beheaded another one of the creatures, and Ares tackled her, a spear barely skimming her long black hair. She rolled away from him, snatching up the discarded weapon of one of the deader things and whipping it toward him. It sank into the creature that was trying to stick him, and it fell to the ground, hopefully dead. He stole its spear before it hit the ground, and battered at another monster. With her free hand, Xena flung a bolt of power at one, and it exploded in a shower of green gunk.

"Oh," she kicked a thrusting spear off course and it tore straight through one of the monster's neck, and manoeuvred until they were back to back. "Fun."

She caught a spear as it tried to skewer her, and sent a charge of pure energy down the shaft. The creature's hands, or whatever it was that they had that passed for hands, melted before it blew up.

There was one left. Out of the corner of her eye, Xena saw Ares's spear clatter to the ground. She grabbed his arm and managed to swing them around so that she was facing the thing and he was behind her. Its spear sank through her breastbone and into her chest. After the momentary shock, something white hot and terrible blazed through her body. Was this pain?

Ares caught her as she fell against him, her retrieved sword in his hand. His left arm around her, he swung.

It was a horrible excuse for a sword strike, but the sheer strength behind it removed the thing's head, green slime spraying the two warriors.

Ares sank to the ground, swearing steadily. "Xena. Hey. Gods, don't do this. Xena!"

"Shut up!" The goddess snarled, gasping at the sensation. "Get it out!"

"What?"

"The godsdamned spear, you asshole, get it out!"

He studied it for a fraction of a moment. There was no other way. He grasped the shaft in one hand, wrapped the other around her shoulders, and yanked.

She cried out softly, her hand over her mouth. There was no blood, but he could see fragmented bone in the gaping wound.

Cyrene followed them as he carried her to her room.

"What were those?"

"Hera's hundred-eyed guard dogs."

"What do they want?"

Xena gave him an incredulous look. "What do you think they want? You've just made Hera's hit list."

He set her down on the bed and straightened.

"Don't go!" the goddess suddenly grabbed his wrist. When he looked at her questioningly, she shook her head. "I can't protect you if I can't see you."

"Right." He suddenly studied her wound. "Are you bleeding?"

Xena looked down. Tiny drops of red were welling up, as if the wound was weeping. It was getting faster.

She cursed heatedly. "Where's my sword?"

"Uh. Downstairs?"

"Get it. Please. I'm mortal without it."

Cyrene gasped sharply and ran from the room.

She quickly returned, and Xena slid the sword into its scabbard. There was a faint blue glow, and both weapon and sheath faded away into nothing. At Cyrene's bewildered gaze, Xena explained that she'd put it away. The drops of red seemed to evaporate into nothing, and bone and flesh shifted in the wound, knitting itself together. In no time, her skin was smooth and unblemished.

"Are you going to be alright?"

The goddess smirked. "Why, sweetheart, you almost seem to care."

Ares bit his lip and muttered, "Shut up."

The door closed softly behind Cyrene.

Ares closed his eyes and let his breath hiss through his teeth. He should go.

She didn't react when the bed shifted under his weight. His breathing was steady and soothing by her ear. She twisted to look at him. His chocolate eyes met hers, so warm. No matter what happened to him, his eyes never changed, not even when she'd switched his body with that of his nemesis, Caesar. His touch, his gaze, so warm and passionate. Everything about him suggested passion, from the sharp angles of his cheekbones to the lush fullness of his lips. Even facing the power-crazed wannabe empress of Rome, Callisto, he never lost that depth of passion. There was something else in those brown eyes now, though. Something she'd never seen displayed before her.

"You're afraid, aren't you?"

Ares blinked, "What?"

"You're afraid of this. Of finding out that I can be hurt and die. I'm your constant. No matter what happens around you, I will come back again and again to try to convince you to come back to me. Now you find out that that's not certain, that I am not forever, and that frightens you. It's like having to face loss for the first time all over again."

He shook his head, his eyes tightly shut. "No."

"You used to be a much better liar."

"Stop it."

Xena sighed softly, breathing in the warm masculinity of his scent. "I hope you outlive me."

Something in his chest began to hurt.

He woke late that night with an empty feeling. Xena was gone.

He got up off of the bed reluctantly, and was suddenly struck with the knowledge that something was missing. He looked back at the rumpled sheets. Warmth. That was missing. Warm sheets.

Warm sheets scented with cool, sweet water and the hint of earth and blood.

Her scent.

He headed toward the door, wondering if he'd find her downstairs.

A familiar blue blaze threw stark shadows upon the floorboards.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Ares swung around, an unbidden smile touching his lips before he caught himself.

She reached up, pulling something over his head and tucking it into his leather vest. He caught a glimpse of the pendant as it glittered in the weak moonlight. Two snakes, intertwined.

"Promise me you won't take it off until this is over."

"I promise."

"Promise me."

"I promise. I promise. I promise. I say it once, I say it twice, I say it thrice, and that makes it true."

The childhood adage had been a favourite of Ares and Lyceus. He'd always used it whenever he wanted to really convince his mentor that something was true.

She loosely tucked him into the bed again, and as he watched, confused, she took a seat at the foot of the bed.

"Aren't you going to sleep?"

She blinked, genuine surprise flitting across her face. "Sleep?" she repeated. "I don't understand."

"You know? When people lie down and rest so that their bodies can replenish their strength?"

"I know what sleeping is," she grunted.

Ares carefully kept a straight face, struck by the absurdity of the situation. "That's nice; ever tried it?"

"Smartass."

He fell into an awkward silence, and she eyed him unabashedly.

"What are you looking at?" he muttered.

She leaned toward him, long, lean muscles on her bare arm shifting, and her eyes drifted half shut. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

To his horror, Ares's ears began burning. The small hairs on his neck felt as if they'd shrivelled and curled up on themselves under the brush of her warm breath. He shivered and swallowed in an attempt to clear his ears of the roar of rushing blood. "I—uh," he tried, eyes drifting rebelliously to her parted lips.

"Hmm?" she hummed, and he felt his pulse vibrate in resonance.

He averted his eyes. "Did you want anything else?" he said, his voice cool and monotone.

He saw her scowl in the corner of his eye, and she slid into the aether with a muttered profanity.

The Halls of War materialized around Xena.

The little bastard. He'd obviously wanted her. Unbidden, the sensation of hot skin sliding against hers hit her so strongly that she couldn't suppress the shiver that slid down her spine.

A nearly perfect warrior and a spectacular lay. So why the fuck couldn't she have him?

A halo of golden curls entered her field of view, framing Aphrodite's sweet smile. "Poor sis. You want me to go talk to him?"

Xena snarled, flopping down onto her enormous bed and burying her face in the heavy silk sheets.

A light hand on her hip made her roll onto her back, and Aphrodite deftly undid the hooks on her leather pants. Sliding the supple material down, Aphrodite placed a light kiss on Xena's flat belly, and her warm tongue dragged over an angular hipbone.

Xena pushed her sister off and quickly refastened her pants. "Thanks, Aphrodite, but not now."

Aphrodite's smile held far too much understanding for Xena's liking. "The warrior babe doesn't know what he's missing," she declared before blowing a kiss and vanishing in a shower of glitter.

Xena looked down at the floor irritably, eyeing the golden specks embedded in the black throw rug. Those were never going to come out.

It wasn't anywhere near dawn when Ares rolled out of bed, snatching up his sword. Hurtling out of the window, he hit the ground running before he skidded to a halt.

"Oh. Shit."

Spears, banners and armoured forms brimmed along the rolling hills surrounding Amphipolis.

In no way could so many troops have appeared so quickly without godly intervention. Ares did a quick mental count. There were too many. The village would be flattened, unless...

"Xena."

The Goddess of War appeared, eyes hooded and hostile. "Do I hear someone call my name? Oh, I wonder who it could be? Tell me, my Chosen one, did you hear someone call my name?"

"Cut the crap."

Her faint smile vaporized. "I wouldn't take that tone, man. I'm not the one who called for your help." Xena tugged stiffly at her tunic and crossed sleekly muscled arms under her breasts. "What do you want now?"

Ares swore under his breath, eyeing the infuriating goddess. "You can see the army as well as I can. Joxer's not much help in the physical combat department."

"So?"

Ares glared, knowing that she was pretending incomprehension. "So I need to get rid of the army before it destroys my village."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You're the godsdamned god of war. Do something."

"No."

Ares's dark eye twitched as all that was familiar slid out of his grasp. "What?" She usually jumped at the chance to have him owe her a favour.

"I can't. Those are Hera's followers. If I mess with them, Zeus will murder me."

"Xena, my family..."

Xena turned her gaze to the banners. "Cyrene's a nice lady," she muttered softly.

Ares could tell that she was wavering. "Please."

The wargoddess shifted uncomfortably. "I can't interfere personally," she maintained, "the best I can offer is my army, and even then, I'm going to get shit from my parents."

Ares's dark eyes blazed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Me, leading your army again after all these seasons."

A condescending smirk took up residence on Xena's face. "Recall that you asked me for help, dear. Now, I could just as easily retract my offer. To be honest, I was planning on giving Zeus a wide berth, considering that I just took that protective amulet you're wearing from his private and very well guarded rooms."

Ares glanced down at the leather strap visible above the neck of his tunic. He took hold of it and began pulling the pendant from under his shirt. "Fine, I'll give it back, then—"

Xena's hand was suddenly encasing his wrist in an implacable hold. "You promised."

Meeting her ice-like gaze, Ares found himself obediently letting the amulet drop. She moved away, and he was furious that he had blindly followed her orders. When he could think again, that is.

"So?"

Ares stared at his goddess' tall, arrogant, scabbard-covered back resentfully. "Fine."

"What do you say?"

He seethed at the bitch's tone. "Thank you—"

He stepped right up to her and pushed his belt dagger right through her chest. "—my dear Lord."

Xena grinned. "Temper, my Prince," she admonished mock-severely, and faded from view.

Ares suppressed an irritated growl. True to her word, Xena had delivered the army. They were gifted warriors, remarkable well-trained, and intensely loyal. And each man to whom Ares had spoken had a story to tell about the Goddess of War. No matter how the story started, it always came down to her prowess in bed. She was a jungle cat, according to some, and a sultry demoness, according to others. Ares' head spun. He was not jealous.

Strong hands touched his shoulders and massaged the tension from them.

Ares shrugged the hands off, something that suspiciously resembled a pout on his lips. "Shouldn't you be charming the pants off all your warriors out there?"

"Do I detect jealousy, my dear?"

"I'm sure that's what your overblown ego would love to believe."

Xena came around to face him, giving him an infuriatingly indulgent smile. "So why did you ask?"

He stared at her. Her impossibly blue eyes reflected gold firelight and glittered with merriment, but the glow could never hide the wild hint of blood, of clashing swords, of victory and glory. It drew him in like a moth, igniting his blood so that it swept through his veins, bringing the euphoria that only war could provide. The intense heat pooled in his face, his skin... his groin.

"Ah... There it is. How I've missed the darkness inside you."

"Sex is not darkness."

"My dear boy, for us, sex is always darkness. It's a battle. It's living, it's fighting, and it's dying." She cocked her head. "The way you want me is darkness."

Ares sneered. "I wouldn't want you if you were the last woman on the planet."

"Really? And I suppose that's just your body stiffening hatefully at my proximity?" Her gaze fell pointedly.

Dammit! He'd hoped that she wouldn't notice. He turned his back and adjusted himself to a more comfortable position, and she laughed. The bitch actually laughed.

"Modesty doesn't become you, Ares."

"Fuck off, Xena."

"Thought you'd never ask."

Her arms slid around his waist, one hand slipping into his vest, and one reaching for his belt.

He spun around, landing a solid backhand to her jaw. "I meant it, Xena. If you're looking for a whore, I'm sure the entire population within ten kilometres would be more than happy to service you."

She stepped quickly into the aether, but not before Ares caught the hurt in her eyes. Staring at the empty space in which she had stood, he dismissed it as his imagination.

"Ares, we've pretty much blocked all access to Amphipolis. I've got a few squadrons digging spike traps, and the scouts that returned reported that Hera's army is planning an all-out assault on us, not the village." Joxer paused, a glint of admiration in his eyes. "You were right. How did you know that they wouldn't go after the village?"

Ares yawned widely. "Hera may not be a warrior, but she's not stupid. She knows that we're watching her. She made the initial mistake of moving her entire army into one area, and if she moves to spread out, she knows that we could move quickly enough to flank her. No, a frontal assault was the only answer." He squeezed Joxer's shoulder. "You've done a lot for me; thank you. How about you get some rest now? Tomorrow will be a long day."

Joxer's normally-cheerful face was arranged in an adult expression that Ares rarely saw. He bit the inside of his lip, and asked, "Are you going to be alright? You know how you get around—"

"I can handle Xena," Ares interrupted.

"Oh, I know that. It's just that—"

"Joxer." What did Joxer know of the trouble Ares had when dealing with Xena? Ares thought back to the times that Joxer had confronted the Goddess of War. He had it, Ares realized with a jolt. That look. Ares found himself looking at Joxer a bit differently. The battered pot-metal armour hid most of him, but Joxer wasn't quite so young anymore. Ares made a mental note to invest in some new clothing for Joxer. "Thanks," he said, "I'll be careful."

Ares waited until Joxer had exited the tent before giving his chair at the rickety, map-strewn table a dirty look. "What do you want?"

Xena appeared, sans her usual flashy entrance. "You always know when I'm here." She studied him with unconcealed interest. "I wonder how that is. Perhaps I have a certain... presence."

"You say presence, I say stink."

She laughed. "So the oaf is warning you against me. How fitting. Are you worried that I'm going to sink my claws into you?"

"Leave Joxer alone, Xena. He's been through much more than you will ever understand."

"Wouldn't dream of it. He doesn't interest me."

She was standing just behind him now, and very faint hints of her scent drifted around him. She smelled like the earth below his feet, like the taste of water, but also like blood.

"You were at a battle."

Ares got a toothy grin in return. "Yes I was, and it was glorious. A warrior took a fatal wound to the chest. His blood was trickling down beneath his armour, and he screamed my name. He screamed as he ripped through half a dozen of the enemy, his own blood bubbling in his throat, all before he died..."

He watched her mouth as she continued speaking: her dark mouth, full and inviting, flushed with the blood pounding through her veins. She spoke of men, of throwing oneself into a fight, no thoughts, no inhibitions, only action; she spoke, and battlelust rose within him. A haze settled about his vision, and energy coursed through his body. He watched her mouth until he could bear it no more, and he tugged her closer and covered her mouth with his own.

It was almost as if she had been expecting his actions. She responded immediately. Her mouth pressed hard against his own, and her tongue coaxed his lips apart with a few quick sweeps, and masterfully curled along the underside of his mouth, sending jolts of desire through his entire body. She inched him backward, and his knees were threatening to give way when she leaned into him, sending him tumbling down onto his thick blankets. She was straddling his leg, one thigh pressing firmly against his crotch. Her hands, oh her hands were everywhere, sliding into his vest and over his leathers. Ares reached for her, his movements feverish with excitement. He pulled her closer to him, and he froze when the cold metal of her belt-dagger dug into his side.

She seemed to sense his sudden misgivings because their clothing disintegrated from their bodies, and he gasped at the feeling of hot skin.

No matter what she had originally thought, Xena certainly hadn't been expecting this. She shifted so that she could slip her hand in between their bodies, and she traced a line over Ares' inner thigh and across the smooth skin between his legs through the soft curls covering him. His mouth opened slightly, his eyes drifted shut, and Xena felt something indescribable pour into her chest, making it ache with fullness. She watched him reach for her, but then he stopped again.

Ares studied Xena with what was left of his control. "You sicken me," he said, and he rolled her over onto her back. There was no mistaking the pain in her eyes this time, and he almost apologized. He pressed his mouth to her jaw and trailed tiny nips and licks down to her collarbone. There was a strange sense of gratification in knowing that she could be hurt. He propped himself up on his elbow, and his other hand stroked down her shoulder and her arm to entangle his fingers with hers. She could be hurt like him.