Judgment
by Something Royal

Behind the snow topped mountains past the eastern territories of Sparta, the sun steadily rose over the fertile land, heating the earth. The calming melodies of song birds drifted along the warming breeze. Blue and pink hues graced the sky, which was littered with dense white clouds. Leaves of green twittered and spun as a warm current swept through them. It was the makings for a beautiful day.

Nearly two months had passed since the Olympian order had reached its zenith. At the hands of the Warrior Princess, the pantheon had fallen. Her offspring, a once fierce commander of the legions of Rome, remained with her mother only a few weeks before deciding it was time to see what destiny had in store for her and her new life.

Now, just outside of Sparta, a fire burned brightly. The flames danced, reflecting off morning dew which sat idle upon nearby foliage. An iron pan was held over the fire. Its contents sizzled.

Gripping the handle, a piece of cloth between her palm and the hot iron, was Xena. Her ebony hair hung over her shoulders. Delicate twigs and leaves sat tangled within the thick locks. Black lashes sunk over blue eyes momentarily, before flying upward again. She let loose a long, drawn out yawn, and shook her head in an attempt to stay conscience.

Peering down into the skillet, she felt satisfied that her breakfast of fresh quail eggs was ready for consumption. Xena reached for a fork and began to eat directly from the pan, making sure to keep the hot iron away from her skin. Her mouth puckered as the food proceeded to burn her tongue. Placing the pan to the ground, she reached for her water skin and indulged in its sweet relief. This action produced an involuntary coughing spasm.

As the influx of air subsided, Xena turned her attention back to her food. Nearby, the fur blanket on the other side of the fire began to move. A hand immerged from beneath, pushing the cover down. Gabrielle's weary face appeared, a look of annoyance clearly written upon it. Her lids stayed lowered and she breathed out forcefully.

"Y'know Xena...after all these years of traveling together, you never fail to wake me up in the most irritating fashion." Gabrielle wiped a piece of sleep from her eye and proceeded to get up from the forest floor. Standing in front of the fire, she looked down at her and continued, "Why must you always get up so early?!"

Xena picked up a piece of bread and tore into it with her teeth. Chewing on it, her lips curled up into a smirk. "Its noft mfy fwmault youf-"

Gabrielle squinted her eyes and flared her nostrils. "You want to try and tell me that when you don't have a loaf of bread in your mouth?"

Reaching again for her water skin, Xena let a small snicker creep out. She washed down her palate and used the back of her hand to wipe away the residue that remained on her face. She picked the pan back up and cleared her throat.

"I was saying....It's not my fault that you're so lazy." Concluding her quip, Xena pierced some more egg upon her fork and went on eating.

Her friend was not amused in the least. Gabrielle sneered before looking about the surrounding area. Her green eyes roamed over the pan, the eating utensils, the opened food sack, and the two small sticks that sat next to the fire. She breathed in and bit her lip.

"Xena..."

"Yee-ah?"

Gabrielle clenched her fists. "Please do NOT tell me that those are the last two eggs."

Swallowing the last bit of her breakfast, she placed the skillet onto the ground. "Um...Ok, then I won't tell you." Xena's face took on a guilty look before a burp made its way out her mouth. "Uh, excuse me..."

Gabrielle picked up the empty food sack and threw it at her friend. She turned around, mumbled incoherently to herself, and began to roll up her fur blanket. Xena pulled the sack from off her head and peered into its empty recesses. This caused her to frown as she put it back down.

"Gabrielle-I'm really sorry. I don't know-I just didn't think about it. There's still some bread and cheese-"

"That's your problem, Xena. You don't even consider that *I* might be hungry. You don't consider that just maybe, I might want a little something to eat when I get up."

Xena stood and, she too, began to fold her own bedroll up, all the while staring curiously at the bard. "Listen-I'm sorry. We can stop in Sparta if bread and cheese isn't good enough for you."

Gabrielle jerked her head around and stared at the warrioress, holding back a scowl. "Yea....ok-fine." She made her way to her bay horse and began to strap her belongings to the animal's back. "Be sure to put your fire out."

Tilting her skin upside down, water spilled out, and upon fusing with the fire below, steam began to rise. The fire quelled, Xena turned and looked at Gabrielle confusedly. "What's the matter with you anyway? You've been acting like this for weeks now."

The bard raised a foot to the stirrup of her saddle and mounted her horse. She peered between the animal's ears, staring off at nothing, before shaking her head. "It's nothing, Xena. You know I'm grumpy in the morning. Let's just go?"

"Yeah...Alright. Let me just get my horse saddled and packed." Xena made her way to the palomino mare and began to get ready.

Gabrielle stared at the ground meanwhile, trying to figure out what was truly bothering her. In her head, she knew the answer. She wouldn't let herself acknowledge it, though, and this disconcerting feeling she woke up with every morning would just not cease. Rolling it over in her head, repeatedly, only served to depress her more. The thoughts wouldn't ebb, however, and the sound of leather creaking as Xena tightened the girth nearby wasn't helping to calm her mood either.

The bard's eyes scanned site once more, making sure that she had indeed packed all of her belongings. By the time she realized that, yes, she had managed to gather everything, Gabrielle noted that the Warrior Princess looked to be finished.

"Alright-I'm ready," Xena announced as she mounted her own horse and urged the animal forward.

***********************************************************

Making their way toward Sparta underneath a canopy of dense trees, they went on in silence. Shadows and light rolled over them, the balance changing with each step. The only noises made were that of leaves being crushed under the weight of the two horses and birds' melodies. They had been traveling for just under half an hour.

Gabrielle sat atop her mount. Her eyes were distant and her lips remained pouted in contemplation. Xena looked toward her friend and lowered a brow. "What's wrong?"

Snapping out of deep thought, the bard glanced down. "I-I.."

"Do you miss Eve? Been feeling really melancholy myself since she left. It's something she had to do, though, and I support her in that."

Gabrielle furrowed her brows. "Uh, yeah-that's it. I miss Eve." She knew this wasn't entirely true. She did miss Xena's daughter, but her absence was not what was causing the attitude.

"Well, don't worry. Eve told me before she left that she wants to meet up in a season in Athens. She's never been there and always wanted to see it." Xena reached down and adjusted her chakram. "Besides, I'm sure we'll find something interesting to keep our minds off of her being gone until then."

Gabrielle shifted in her saddle. "Yeah, we always do." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Xena-"

"Hey..Do you hear that?" She brought her mount to a halt and Gabrielle followed her lead.

The sounds of people shouting could be heard from a distance. Normally, in Xena's world, shouting and yelling were synonymous with trouble. In this instance, however, it seemed that the noise was of a more innocent nature. Neither woman knew for sure, though.

"What's going on? It sounds like a festival or something."

"I don't know. It's definitely coming from within Sparta. We aren't far from the city gates. C'mon, let's hurry up and see what's going on." Xena clicked her tongue against her teeth, urging her mount into a medium trot.

With a deep sigh, Gabrielle followed behind.

Sparta.

The city had been replenished over the past twenty-seven years. Funds had been drained in an effort to prolong the Trojan War, and thus, caused the city to staggeringly diminish in its majesty, as well as population. This once glorious economy had spiraled down so far that it became nothing more than a small village. Over the years since peace had been reestablished, however, it had slowly, but surely, began to work its way back to its former glory.

High stone walls encompassed it. Banners in the city's designated colors of green and white caught flight on the breeze. Rod iron bars covered tower windows and the gates, which had remained closed for many years, now stood completely open. Travelers were now welcomed to stop and indulge in Spartan cuisine, art, and luxury...whatever little there was.

Nearing the gates, Xena's blue eyes scanned the town's main square. The area was completely packed with citizens and other onlookers at what seemed to be a rather major event. What it was, she couldn't decipher from the distance.

"Well, looks as though something important is going on." Xena raised a hand and pointed.

Gabrielle squinted her eyes in an attempt to gain better focus. "That's a lot of people! Is it a holiday??"

"No," she answered, shaking her head, "but now that we're getting closer, it appears that some of those people are on duty soldiers standing by. What in the world is going on?" Xena leaned forward in her saddle, trying to figure out what sort of brouhaha it was that they were about to drop in on.

Ten feet from the gates, Xena stopped her mare and dismounted. Gabrielle did the same and together, they led their mounts toward the entrance of what was...once...mighty Sparta.

Two guards stood on either side of the gates. They made no move to talk or question the two women. In fact, it seemed that they were not even paying any mind to who came or went. Their backs were turned to the entrance, their attention limited to the goings-on in town.

Xena and Gabrielle exchanged looks. Though they didn't say anything, it was clear they were thinking the same thing--poor security.

To the left of the entrance were tie racks. Riderless horses stood tethered to them. Xena and Gabrielle walked down the line and when they finally found enough space for their own mounts, they wrapped their reins around the wooden posts. The former patted her mare on the neck and looked down to make sure the trough was filled with fresh water.

"Does it look alright," the bard asked, taking a gander at it as well.

"Yeah, they'll be fine." Xena glanced to her side, making sure her chakram was still secure. "Ready?"

"Yup," Gabrielle answered, pulling a satchel down from her horse, "let's check it out."

The streets were filled with men, women, and children; peasants and nobility. While it seemed the majority wore nothing more than simple cotton attire, the few nobles scattered about were head-to-toe in fine silk, precious stones, and embossed metals. Yes, the separation between the social dichotomy was clear. In fact, it seemed that there were only two social standings, no middle class. Regardless of this balance and their differences, every person appeared to be in an enthusiastic mood.

People commiserated in groups, flashing smiles and laughing at jokes. Some were more animated than others, talking loudly and often times, speaking with their hands. Others were more demure, leaning into their associates and whispering as eyes wandered. Many held drinks, planning to get inebriated. Spartans could also be found indulging on various hand-held foods.

Vending tables were open for business, lining the city walls. Fabric, rare stones, fruits, vegetables, leather goods, breads and jewelry, these were a few of the things that were being bartered. Each table appeared to be run by a common man or woman, sometimes families, and that was generally the case in most cities. As Xena and Gabrielle walked past the make-shift market, vendors attempted to persuade them to stop. They would hold up their goods, say something about the quality, taste, whatever adjective applied, and then yell a price.

Toward the northern end of the square, a stage had been erected. Eyes held fast to it for, atop the platform, a play was being performed. The actors wore large, elaborately painted masks and long robes as they presented their rendition of Menander's, 'The Hero'. Their antics produced laughter and snorts from the audience, both men and women alike.

Jugglers snaked through the crowds--never missing a beat as they tossed brightly colored balls from hand to hand. Musicians strummed their lyres, some singing satires. Jesters walked about as well, naughty smiles stretched across their painted faces.

Gabrielle smiled. "It is some sort of festival. I suppose we picked the right time to come to Sparta, didn't we?"

When no answer came she looked back to where Xena had been standing only to find that she was gone. Green eyes jetted back and forth through the encompassing crowds till, finally, she saw her. The warrioress was near the center of the crowd. Gabrielle began to make her way there, finding the journey pretty difficult due to the hustle and bustle of people.

Finally reaching her destination, the bard sighed with relief. "Why did you just walk off like that?" She tapped her friend's arm when there was no answer. Xena seemed to be transfixed by whatever she was leering at. "What is it?"

She turned around, a look of disgust on her face, and pointed to what had held her stare. The bard's mouth dropped open and Xena flared her nostrils.

"This is no holiday, Gabrielle. This is a celebration of a hanging."

A gallows tree had been erected at the center edge of the main square in front of the palace. A noose hung portentously from the wooden crossbeam. Currently, the trap door beneath was being tested for fidelity. The sound of its unclasping hinges caused a grotesque sound to echo out and over the instrumental of a nearby minstrel.

"Why such a big celebration over a death, Xena?"

"I don't know, but I intend to find out." The warrioress looked around and clasped the arm of a man who was making his way through the crowd. "What's your name?"

He pulled away from Xena's constricting grasp and smoothed down his green embroidered chiton. "Excuse me?" He extended his chin in snobbery and ran a hand through his graying hair.

The man was, apparently, a noble. The clothes he wore were that of Spartan finery. There was little doubt that he was affiliated with the king. You would be hard-pressed in any city to find a noble that wasn't.

Xena rolled her eyes in regard to the condescending attitude and sardonically smiled. "I asked you what your name is."

The man smirked and placed his fingers over his neatly trimmed beard. "My name is Phazon, member of the high council. How may I be of service to you?" He puckered his lips and raked his brown eyes over Xena's leather clad form.

"Service me? Why, Phazon, I don't think you could satisfy me in that respect." She grinned with delight as his ego fell a few notches. "I just need you to answer some questions for me."

Irritated, he lowered his brows. "What?"

"Why this celebration? Whose neck is to swing in that noose?" Xena stared down at the little man, waiting for an answer.

"Tis a surprise, my dear. Don't worry, you're not the only one in the dark. Nobody, save for myself, the rest of the high council, and the monarchy know the answer. Just enjoy yourself. You'll find out soon enough."

Xena was not pleased in the least, but before she could voice her objection to being denied the answers she sought, Phazon had walked away. She looked back toward Gabrielle and lifted her hands in defeat. "Well, that was a waste of time!"

"He's just following orders, Xena." The bard looked around and caught a glimpse of a fruit stand in the distance. "I'm really hungry. I'm going to go get something to eat." She pulled a dinar from her satchel. "Be right back, okay?"

"Alright."

Minutes later, the bard returned with a bunch of ripe, green, seedless grapes. She pulled a few off of their stems and popped them into her mouth. Chewing them, a slight smile played at her lips. "Want some," she offered.

"Wha-" Xena tore her eyes away from the noose. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you wanted some grapes."

"No, thanks," she answered before returning her attention to the execution site.

"Still ruminating on the gallows, eh?"

Xena frowned. "Yeah. There's something unsettling about this whole thing."

"Maybe it's a warlord? Slave trader?" Gabrielle shrugged and continued to satisfy her hunger on the sweet fruit.

"Could be...I don't know." The warrioress looked around the crowd. Laughter and merriment saturated the atmosphere.

One of the jugglers made his way past the women. Children chased after him, delighted and in awe of his skill. The play on the platform nearby looked to be coming to a close. The actors made their way to the end of the stage, clasped hands and took a bow. A thundering wave of claps and hollers followed.

It was at this time, that standing to the left of the gallows, four men dressed in imperial garb raised large horns. They placed their lips upon the instruments and breathed deeply into the pipes, emitting an attention getting melody as introduction to the royalty that now stepped out into the square. The entire mass of Spartans, including the guards who had stood watch at the main gate, moved forward toward the huge platform.

Xena immediately recognized an old weather-worn man as King Menelaus. The last time she had seen him had been at Troy when he claimed victory over the Trojan's, but lost what he had ultimately sought-- Helen. Now, at his side stood a woman who Xena figured to be his new wife. She was not nearly the beauty that he had waged war to possess, but the people seemed to love her. Every Spartan citizen bowed as she lifted her hand in recognition of them.

The warrior and the bard remained standing, looking around as if they were out of place.

It had been nearly thirty years since Troy had fallen. Menelaus was now, approximately, sixty-two. Thanks to his regal status, however, he was still in excellent condition. Being subject to every whim catered to, every need fulfilled, he was still an imposing figure.

As Menelaus made his way to the top scaffold of the gallows, he too raised a hand. At this, the crowd stood. His attire was extravagantly majestic. Atop his head sat a crown fixed with emeralds, rubies, diamonds and sapphires. Silk embroidered robes hung from his shoulders. The first was gold and layered on top of that was one in green. Upon them, the royal crest had been applied. Even upon his fingers, jewels sat and sparkled in the sun's warming rays. Golden gauntlets secured his wrists. This was not the worn king who had gone to war at Troy with nothing but the armor on his back. No, this was a king who seemed euphoric amongst luxury.

"Well, I knew we should have expected him to still be in power, but admittedly, I find this to be a bit strange," Gabrielle related.

"He looks rather content after keeping his people caught up in a ten year war." She stopped, remembering how long ago the war really was. "Even if it was years ago." Xena eyed the man over again, a sneer running across her face.

Menelaus stood upon the scaffold. The crowd cheered and called out his name as if he was a hero, rather than a war monger. They raised their drinks in salute and gratitude. He lifted his hands higher above his royally crowned head and smiled deeply as he attempted to quiet the people.

"EVERYONE!" The hoots and hollers began to ebb as he began. "Good citizens of Sparta, I salute YOU!"

At this, the crowd roared with adoration.

Xena rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Oh he's good."

Again, the onlookers' cheers fell silent as they stared on expectantly. Menelaus tipped his head and continued, "It is my great honor to serve as your king. Sparta will regain its former glory. Who can forget the mighty Trojan war? After ten long, brutal, years we defeated Troy! I, as your king, went to battle for the greater good of our home and I came back victorious!" He looked around the enamored faces of the crowd and smirked. "Today, I prove to you that the war we were forced into--the war that took your king from your home for ten years--the war that caused our stability to falter--will NOT go unavenged!"

The people cheered. They might not have known exactly what their king meant by 'unavenged', but his charismatic energy excited them. Coming out of such meager times, it felt good to hear about their return to glory. It felt good to hear that the friends and family they had so tragically lost during the Trojan War were not forgotten and would be avenged, whatever that entailed.

"What is he talking about," Gabrielle asked. "The entire monarchy of Troy was wiped out during the war."

Xena's lashes lowered. Her blue eyes pierced through them and the unimpressed look on her face remained. "He's telling them what they want to hear. Poor fools."

The two woman looked on as King Menelaus proceeded with his speech.

"Today, I bring Sparta that retribution. Today, we avenge those we lost so long ago!" He looked back and with a nod of his head, signaled the Royal Guard.

From a doorway adjacent to the palace, four guards walked out. Between the men was their prisoner. The man's head was covered with a black sack. His arms were bound behind him by weighted manacles and the clothes he wore were nothing but brown cotton rags. He was afforded with no boots or sandals and thus, his feet were bare. Marks, caused by unmerciful whipping, marred his blanched skin, the wounds oozing with each move his deteriorated muscles made. It was apparent that this prisoner had been not only beaten, but nearly starved.

At the base of the stairs, one of the soldiers pushed the man up the incline. Since his arms were bound, this caused the prisoner to fall face first into one of the wooden steps. Another soldier grabbed him from behind, jerking him upright, and then forced him to proceed.

Once to the top of the scaffold, they directed him under the noose and placed it around his shrouded head.

Menelaus grinned with delight. The king walked over to the prisoner and stood beside his broken form. He raised his hands, faced the crowd, and spoke with a prideful gleam in his fading brown eyes. "People of Sparta, I present to you this day, the cause of ten years' suffering. The cause of ten years of unnecessary battle. The cause of the pain it created. I bring you," Menelaus put his hand on the top of the black sack which concealed the prisoner's face. "war himself!!!!"

Xena heard the words as they spewed from Menelaus' mouth, but it wasn't until he pulled the shroud from the prisoner's head that she felt her stomach bottom out in astonishment.

Gabrielle's eyes bulged wide. "It's..."

"Ares," Xena whispered.

She looked on incredulously at the once powerful Olympian. The last time Xena had seen Ares was on Olympus when he had been instrumental in the downfall of the pantheon. Now, here he stood at the mercy of mortals.

His face was bruised and dark circles sat under a blank stare. His once neatly cropped black hair was grown out to the shoulders, slick with grease. From his lips, which were somewhat concealed by an unkept moustache, blood poured out and rolled down his face into an overgrown beard. The injury had, no doubt, been caused from the recent fall. He wearily looked out into the crowd, their faces in shock over the fact that their king had subdued this once omnipotent being.

Shock began to subside and now the crowd roared with approval. Menelaus had swayed them with the charismatic speech he had made, and now the citizens decided that their leader was right. Ares was to blame for the Trojan war. A man at the back of the crowd called out.

"DEATH TO ARES!!!!!" He looked about his friends, family and neighbors who had remained silent and shouted again, "DEATH TO ARES!!!"

He repeated this over and over again, building a rhythm until another person joined in, and then another, and another, till soon, the entire mass of Spartans were demanding Ares' demise.

"Death to Ares!!!"

"Death to Ares!!!"

"Death to Ares!!!"

The cries for vengeance pleased Menelaus. With a smug look, he walked toward the lever which would release the trap door, thus hanging the mortal. He stretched out long, jewel-adorned fingers and wiggled them about as if loosening them up.

Xena's mind began to reel. Ares stood atop the scaffold with nothing but a forlorn expression upon his beaten face. The people surrounding her were calling out for the execution to proceed. Menelaus meant to do it, and meant to do it soon. There was little time to do anything. She briefly glanced at Gabrielle before pushing her way through the crowd to get closer.

She could feel the scratchy cotton of commoner attire rub against her skin. Those with drinks raised their cups, making way for her passage. Droplets of mead spilled on her. She could smell the stench of alcohol and pungent sweat, but Xena desperately continued on.

The warrioress managed to make it to the very front of the audience. Her eyes held a bewildered glare as she systematically weighed her options. Time was running out.

Menelaus' hands wrapped around the lever and a wickedly triumphant smile crossed his lips. "You see before you a being who had all of Greece tremble at a whisper of his name...a being who shaped this nation by will. Now, he stands in defeat. Through the course of time, remember this--- I, King Menelaus of Sparta, defeated the mighty Ares!!!!" It was at this moment he pulled the lever down.

Ares' eyes remained open. He could feel the panel beneath his bare feet begin to give way, the creaking of hinges accompanying its impending descent. The coarse rope around his neck began to slightly constrict, nevertheless, he still stared forward.

If she was going to do anything, she had to do it now. Xena grabbed her chakram and sent it hurling through the air. Its familiar whirring noise made Ares' eyes snap up. Others heard it as well, Menelaus in particular, who watched on curiously as the weapon flew. He thought, perhaps, someone was sparing Ares with a quick death.

Menelaus was wrong.

The chakram severed the rope just as the trap door flung completely open. Ares fell through the opening and landed roughly on his side in the dirt below.

The Spartans shouted and booed. The king stood in utter shock. He wasn't exactly sure what had just happened. The hollers from the crowd, however, gained his attention. Menelaus now scowled and signaled the Royal Guard into action.

Catching the chakram on its return, Xena ran beneath the scaffolding. She grabbed Ares by the arm, bringing the fallen power back to his feet. Her eyes were feral as she urged him to run with her. If they were going to make it out of Sparta they had to do it quick. The crowd was beginning to riot and Xena did the only thing she could-go by instinct.

As soon as stepped from beneath the gallows tree and out of the shadows, the crowd rushed to meet them. They were clearly irate, but Xena would not back down. Despite the quantity of people facing them, she put herself in front of Ares and went into battle stance.

"Get BACK," she ordered, looking from face to face with her fists ready to strike.

While some just stood there, leering at them with disdain, others did not listen and continued to step ever closer to the pair.

"Maybe you didn't hear me." Xena pulled out her sword and swung it in a semi-circle, a vicious gleam in her eyes. "I told you to get BACK!!!!"

If the crowd had the gumption, they could easily take both of them down. Xena could only come up with one reason that the Spartans didn't lynch them right there and then-- curiosity. That was the only thing that was buying them time and she had to do something before they lost interest in simply standing by and glaring.

To make matters worse, Menelaus' guards were making their way to where she and Ares stood. That was it. They had to get out of there and there was no time to wait. Again, Xena threatened with her sword, a predatory look in her eyes. The crowd was comprised of mostly farmers and other common people. Again, while they could, together, take the Warrior Princess down, no one was prepared to get in the way of her sword. No one wanted to be harmed in the process.

They began to part as she continually thrust the steel at their soft bellies. Cautiously, Xena and Ares made their way through the dividing path. Xena looked from person to person. Wound like a trap, she was simply waiting to be sprung, and not a single person wanted to be a casualty. No, these were common people who backed up each time the warrioress leveled her sword at them. Slowly, she and Ares made it through the dense square, and that's when the Spartan soldiers began to catch up.

Xena caught sight of the bard and yelled, "GET THE HORSES READY!"

Gabrielle nodded, dropped grapes she'd been holding and ran for the stables.

Ares weakly moved with Xena as she led them toward the exit of Sparta. She kept her eyes on all who dared to move an inch. Both hands firmly clutched the hilt of her sword. Her mouth remained turned down in a frown. Together, they now moved in a backward fashion, not allowing the massive crowd to gain any openings.

The warrioress cast a quick look over her shoulder. "Can you run?"

Ares was barely audible, for his throat was hoarse and weak, but he answered, "Yes."

"Turn around."

Xena got herself ready. Keeping her eyes on the people in front of them, she waited till she felt Ares shift behind her. It was then that, with lightning quick reflexes, she spun around and brought the sword down upon the chain that bound his hands behind his back. The metal snapped instantly in a flash of sparks.

"RUN," she yelled.

Ares followed her orders and before the Spartans knew what had happened, Xena was facing them again.

By this time the guards were mere feet away. Since they had followed the narrow path she had made through the crowd, the men were in a single line formation, one behind the other. As the first moved to extricate his sword from its scabbard, Xena leapt at the soldier, landing a sizable kick to his midsection. He flew backward into those who followed him, and Xena took the opportunity to run.

Gabrielle was mounted and waiting with Xena's horse at Sparta's gates.

"HURRY UP!" Her gelding reared with fear of the tumultuous mass of people, who were now shouting and racing forward. Their curiosity no longer held them in place. She attempted to steady the animal and cried out again, "HURRY!!"

Xena had caught up to Ares in no time. He could barely run. The rocks below dug into the soft flesh of his bare feet, but he was trying his best. Together, they reached the horses and Xena mounted hastily. She lowered an arm and teeth bared down as she pulled Ares up. He was too weak to hoist himself.

Adrenaline kicked in as her eyes washed across the impending crowd and she managed to pull him up the rest of the way. None too soon either, for as they began a mad sprint out of town, arrows flew skyward.

The two horses exerted a voracious pace. Ares held tight to Xena's waist as they sprinted like mad. Her black hair flew back in his face and his eyes closed, feeling comfort again for the first time in months.

***********************************************************

Within a candlemark's distance from the pass at Mt. Parnon and adjacent to a grove of laurel trees, the clear blue waters of the Eurotas River flowed. Both horses were covered in thick, foamy, sweat. Their nostrils flared as oxygen returned to tightened lungs. Xena leaned forward and placed a hand upon her mare's chest.

"They need a rest. We've lost Menelaus' men for now."

Gabrielle nodded and began to dismount. "What's the plan?" The bard looked over as Xena assisted Ares off of the mare.

"We keep on going-" her words were cut short by Ares.

He shook his head, his hands still clutching her gauntlets. He attempted to clear his throat. Ares' once soft pink lips were now cracked and dry. The cut from earlier was also making it difficult to speak.

"The pass at Therapne-" He began to cough violently. Xena grabbed her water skin and handed it to him. He gratefully took it and drank deeply. As the lip of the container left his mouth he laboredly breathed, attempting to finish his sentence. "The pass--Menelaus will already have the guards stationed there alerted."

Gabrielle, who had her saddle in her arms, looked puzzled. "How?"

"Messenger birds," Xena huffed, exasperated. She turned to her mare and unbuckled the girth.

"What are we going to do," the bard asked, putting her gear down.

Before Xena could answer, Ares' eyes began to roll up in his head. His knees grew weak and slowly, he began to plummet toward the ground. She quickly lunged forward and caught him underneath the arms. "Easy there!"

"I'm alright." He tried desperately to manage a smile, but couldn't. All his effort did was cause the cut on his lip to split open again.

She helped him to a nearby tree and sat him at the foot of it. Once settled, she squatted and began to look mortal man over. Xena's emotions simply reeled. It was truly a shock to find this once powerful being in such a state as this.

"No, you're not alright." She looked back toward her friend and signaled for a cloth and her waterskin.

"Here." The bard handed her the skin and then pulled some linen from her satchel. She shook her head at the sight of Ares while offering the cloths to Xena. "I just-I just don't know what we're going to do."

The warrior poured water over the fabric and pressed it to the cut on Ares' lip. He flinched, as the pressure stung. Closing his eyes he sighed. "Just leave me."

Xena was shocked to hear those words exit his mouth. Ares had always been a survivor, always looked out for his best interests. She'd saved his life today, yet he didn't seem to care. Her brows lowered as these puzzling thoughts crossed her mind. She stood and looked from face to face.

"You both know that when I marched across Greece, I made sure that my army had a weapons and supply shelter to fall back on if times called for it. We dug one out around this area. We'll have to backtrack to get to it, but there should be some clothes and medicine."

Gabrielle nodded and ran a hand up the length of her arm. "Alright. I'll go take the horses down to the stream and wash them down. He looks like he could use the rest anyway."

"Thanks. We'll be here when you get back." Xena put a hand on her friend's shoulder and smiled meekly. "Be careful."

"Yeah, I will be...You do the same." The bard grabbed the reins of both animals. Looking back once more, she smiled slightly and led them away.

Now alone, Xena knelt beside Ares. "Why did you say that?" Her question was direct. She continued to dot away the blood that continued to ooze from his lip with the wet rag and waited for an answer.

"I wasn't meant to be mortal, Xena. All it brings is pain." He coughed again and grimaced feeling his bruised ribs shake against his skin.

"What happened?" She stared deep into his brown eyes. The fire in them was diffused, leaving nothing but desolate pools of despair. Xena couldn't deny that this bothered her. Ares' cocky style was gone. In its place was something she could not put a name to. She looked down to the ground, picked up a small stone, and threw it to the wayside.

He pushed himself up a bit out of his slumped position. "After what happened on Olympus-"

Eyes closed in sweet remembrance of his once glorious days on ethereal mountains... days of victory and delight, being master of legions, invincible and powerful. He opened his eyes and gazed upon his lashed skin and dirt covered feet. He waveringly sighed and looked back to her.

"After Olympus...I lost everything...everything... I thought that I could find allies in Sparta. They did win the war. I thought the king would be grateful to me." He coughed again. The pain shot through him and he grunted.

Xena put a hand to his ribs and felt around. "They were broken. Feels like they're nearly mended, but I don't want to take any chances. When did this happen?"

"A month ago, maybe less. It's hard to tell time when you can't see the sun."

She sensed his weariness at speaking of the events that had brought him to this. Deciding the account of what had happen could wait she raised a hand. "Listen, you can tell me the rest later." Xena got up and went to her saddle bag. She pulled out some cloths and with an earnest expression, walked back toward Ares. "I'm going to need you to stand up and take your shirt off."

She expected some sort of wise crack or a naughty smile. Xena had, after all, just beckoned him to undress, but there was nothing. He wearily attempted to stand, wobbling a bit. She extended an arm to steady him. Slowly, he began to peel the shirt from his skin, all the while his jaw clenched in pain. Beatings with the whip while in the Sparta jail had left wounds across his back. The blood had dried on the fabric of his shirt, causing the material to bond with the lacerations. As he pulled the shirt off, it begrudgingly tore from his flesh, causing the wounds to reopen.

Xena's eyes budged wide in shock as she let a silent gasp escape her lips. Ares turned and faced her before bowing his head in humility. Her mouth remained agape from seeing him like this. She took the wet rag, walked behind him and started to wash away the blood that dripped down his back. She bit her lip as she felt his body flinch at her touch.

"These wounds need to be cleaned out if they're going to heal." She brought the rag down again. The cool water cascaded down his back, stinging with each cleansing caress. "When we get to the shelter, we'll tend to them immediately."

Ares weakly nodded his head. He just stood there as if he were empty inside. Perhaps he was. After months of being isolated, malnourished and unkept, Ares was lost on a sea of humiliation, confusion and pain.

Xena gently pushed on his elbows, signaling him to raise his arms. She took the dry, clean, cloth and began to wrap it round his upper torso to support and restrict his ribs from movement.

"This should hold you until we get there."

Ares turned around and faced her. His eyes were downcast. She gazed at his mouth and saw that the bleeding had finally subsided, although the delicate skin was still dry and cracked. She looked around and caught sight of a large plant. Xena motioned for him to remain where he was as she made her way to it. She grasped it at the green root and with her chakram, cut it from the ground. White liquid immediately began to pour from the plant's stem. She quickly snapped the chakram back on its clasp and cupped her hand beneath the leaking limb.

She carefully walked back, discarding the foliage. Xena tipped her head at Ares, directing him to sit down at the base of the tree again. She knelt beside him, dipping her fingers in the creamy substance. "Here, turn your head towards me. This will ease the dryness."

He did as told and arched his head toward her, parting his mouth. The cool liquid dripped from her fingers as she moved to apply it. Xena dragged the cream across his lips, from one end to the other, top to the bottom, and the throbbing pain they felt began to dissipate into a cool numbness.

She stared deep into his eyes as she soothed the dried contours. Her gaze was filled with compassion. He looked up at her. She was such a comforting sight to behold. For the first time in months he felt safe, but empty nonetheless.

Weakly, he lifted a hand and placed it around her wrist, pulling her hand away. Xena looked at him confusedly. "What's the matter?"

Ares pressed his lips together, smearing the lotion. "You don't need to do this."

Xena shook her head. "Listen-you're hurt. Let me help." He hesitantly let go of her wrist. Again, she gathered the liquid upon her fingers and spread more of the substance on his lips. She could feel the rough skin begin to smooth out under her touch and meekly smiled. "There."

Looking behind her, she found one of the rags she'd pulled out of her saddle bag earlier. She picked it up and wiped the excess cream off of her hand.

"That's not what I meant...."

She turned to face him again, her black hair swinging over her shoulders. "What?"

Ares looked at the ground and ran his hands through the dirt. "Xena... just walk away. This isn't about you. You shouldn't get involved."

Her eyebrows came to a point and she shook her head incredulously. This was not something she expected to hear from him. Again, she always saw Ares as an opportunist. Why wouldn't he want her help now? After all the years, the schemes for conquest and glory to suit his own purposes, he seemed content in defeat.

The last time she'd seen him he had surprised her as well. While he was still cocky and admittedly arrogant, Ares had done something that Xena never thought him capable of. He'd done something selflessly.

All of Olympus had sought her daughter's death. It was her daughter, Eve, that was to bring about the fall of the pantheon's reign. They nearly succeeded in destroying her and thus, continuing their order, but... it was Ares who changed the course of immortals and mortals alike.

Athena had Xena where she wanted her. Eve was nearly dead, as well as Gabrielle. Both mortal women bled pools upon the marble floor of Olympus. It was Eve's death that would end the threat to the pantheon and it was nearly at hand.

If Ares had simply stayed back, the prophecy would have been abolished, his reign secure. Power, which he so desperately desired, would be his for eternity. Yet, seeing Athena poised to bring her sword down upon Xena, for once in his immortal life, he realized that all that Olympus had to offer, all of the power, the majesty, a never-ending life of luxury and extravagant splendor--all of this was not worth losing the one being he'd ever claimed to love.

Bound by chains of Hephaestus, he did the only thing he could. He dragged himself toward the fallen bodies of Eve and Gabrielle and, without Athena's consent, he healed them. There was only one way to do so without his sister's approval.

Ares gave up his immortality, condemning Olympus to ruin.

Now, here was this same being, no longer invincible to mortal pains and woes. Xena looked over his body, wracked with wounds, bruises, broken and bleeding.

He'd just told her that she shouldn't get involved, that this wasn't her concern. She closed her eyes tightly and bowed her head.

Ares and Xena had a long history together. They had been many things to each other over the years: mentor and student, compatriots, lovers, enemies. After all of it, they still had a bond that was so strong, that no matter how awful the circumstances, she couldn't deny that a part of her relied on him for something. What that something was, she wasn't quite sure of, but she knew she couldn't just walk away.

Xena bit her lip and handed him the water skin. "Stop talking nonsense and drink."

He took it and raised his other hand in an attempt to object. "No, Xena- just leave me, get yourself out of-"

She at him stoically and stood. "I'm not going anywhere."

***********************************************************

In the throne room of the Spartan palace, King Menelaus sat. Within his right hand he gripped a silver goblet, the other propped his old head up, and the fingers rubbed against his grayed temple. Old faded eyes looked around the dimly lit room. The torches remained unlit. Just a few mere candles offered illumination.

Their light danced over the walls, making visible ornate decorations. Tapestries depicting the Trojan War lined them. These were spaced out by worn weapons, nicked swords and dented shields which had been salvaged from the war itself. To the throne's right was a rather large marble sculpture that towered over the jewel encrusted chair. It was a representation of the horse that had garnered Sparta victory over Troy.

Behind where the king sat in deep contemplation, was yet another tapestry. It was masterfully woven with all the colors of the spectrum. Metallic-like threads worked their way through each section of it, combining into a glorious depiction of the king in his youth, leading the Spartans to battle, his sword raised skyward.

Lining the top of this was Greek lettering, which stated: "In ourselves, we sought glory. In the king we found victory."

For nearly three decades these were the only things Menelaus concerned himself with. Truth be told, he was obsessed. Each year he'd commission a new work to be created, a new tapestry to be woven, and each time it was ordered to serve as yet another reminder of the battle at Troy.

The concept of the entire situation intrigued him and at times, he thought himself haunted by it. He had married Helen as a young man just ascending to the sovereign crown. Her beauty had possessed him, for he denied any announcements of true adoration for her. Just as these works of art sat about his throne room, he saw her as merely another acquisition.

Menelaus lifted the goblet to his lips. It lingered there as he stared off into nothing, the candle light flickering off the jeweled rings that adorned his fingers. The scent of fermented liquid filled his nose and slowly, he raised the cup. The sweet sensation of the wine running down his throat brought back more bitter memories.

Years ago he lost Helen. She'd become enamored with Paris of Troy and indulged in the affair, ultimately running off with the handsome man who had captured her heart.

Thus, the war had started, fueled by jealous revenge. Menelaus had told his people half-truths. He convinced them that Troy was a threat to their security, their homes, their way of life. Had they known they were spiraling into economic turmoil brought on by his lust for a woman, Sparta would have been enraged.

But, they didn't know.

Even now, thirty years later, they believed this lie and the image of himself that he'd conjured produced nothing but adoration for their leader. They saw him as a war hero, a true man of the people willing to step his own regal feet upon muddied soil in an effort to secure their majesty.

Menelaus came back, claiming ultimate victory over Troy. His exploits on their territories were documented as one of the greatest triumphs their people had ever known. The truth was, to the sovereign himself, he'd suffered the ultimate defeat.

For ten years this war had raged on. So many had perished, yet he could not repossess the one thing he truly desired. He'd sought to bring back the woman who had captured every waking thought, each breath and came back empty handed. For this bittersweet conquest, he blamed the personification of war.

A candle burned brightly to his right. He grimaced watching the flame dance upon the wax. It was as if this bright heat taunted him, never wavering beneath his imposing stare. Lazily he ran the tips of his fingers through the searing flame, watching intently as it parted and climbed the sides. Menelaus flared his nostrils and with a pinch of his fingers, he diffused the flame, sneering as the smoke rose from under them.

Hearing the echo of footsteps upon the stone floor, prompted the king to look up expectantly. He indulged in another wave of sweet wine and set the goblet down on the arm of the throne as he sat up.

Shadows shrouded the visitor's face, yet he knew who it was. White silken material clung to the form, the light from other candles dancing off of the soft contours of womanly bosom. She walked toward one of the flames, and picked up the candle. Hot wax ran down and over her fingers causing a slight grimace, but she continued forward.

Menelaus watched as she came toward him, the candle in her hand now illuminating her delicate features. Her long brown hair, which was streaked with gray, was pulled behind her back and bound neatly with a thread of silver ribbon. Curled tendrils framed her face.

She pulled a strand of hair from her full lips as she leaned down to the extinguished candle that sat to the right of the king and lit it with her own. Upon doing so, she sat hers in an empty candle holder that was adjacent.

He stared on with dismay as she did this. He'd wanted that candle out for a reason. Shaking his head in annoyance he resumed his drinking, taking in large gulps of the substance. As the wine raced down his palate it triggered a cough.

With a graceful hand she attempted to assist him. Menelaus hunched over and began coughing to the wayside, but caught her by the wrist and thrust it back. "I don't need your help!"

She bowed her head as the words stung her. Her name was Taris. Sparta had been her home all forty-two years of her life. She had been a mere child throughout the duration of the Trojan wars. She was the daughter of a Spartan noble and upon her twentieth birthday had been notified of the king's desire to wed.

The betrothal had come as a surprise. Taris had been deeply in love with a boy she'd grown-up with. However, her father would not permit her to deny this invitation to become Queen of Sparta and soon she and Menelaus were married.

She thought, perhaps, over time, they'd come to feel for one another. She thought they'd learn about each other's interests and aspirations. Finding this to be false had snuffed out so much joy in her life. She felt as though she was nothing more than yet another acquisition.

He'd always been cold to her. It was like she was married to a stranger. Never did he afford her the simple pleasantries of polite conversation. Not once had he uttered words of adoration or genuine interest. Every touch was cold and unfeeling. They went through the motions. There was no emotional attachment. It was a marriage simply for show.

Yet, for some reason, she still attempted to be kind and concerned and this was her reward. Taris raised a hand to her wrist, rubbing at it and lowering her head. She swallowed hard and finally looked up at him, her green eyes reflecting her mood.

He sat upon his throne, a hand raised to his brow, scowling and looking away at nothing.

"I was only trying to help you," Taris finally muttered out.

"I do not need nor do I want your help."

Again, she bowed her head. She couldn't understand why he couldn't treat her in private the way he led those to believe he did in public. He was a fine showman. Lies sprung from his lips as though they were the purest of truths.

Her eyes raked over him. He was inebriated. This wasn't new. Every night he'd drink, wallowing in memoirs from the past. She pursed her lips together and lifted her chin. She'd had it with his indifference.

"Why do you treat me this way? What have I ever done to you that in return I'm nothing but an after thought?!" She placed her hands upon her hips, awaiting his answer.

He began to deeply laugh at this spark of courage, mocking her. The reverberations again induced a sporadic cough, but he continued to chuckle in response to her pleading questions. "What have you ever done to warrant my respect?" He began to laugh again as he reached for the flask of wine to refill the goblet.

These words cut deep into her. She'd given up true love for this man and now he mocked her. It was utterly demeaning in every sense of the word. She shook her head with a disgusted look and swiped the flask away. It fell the floor in an unnerving crash, the wine spilling out all over the stone floor.

Taris' mouth dropped open, realizing what she'd done. She knew he had a temper and when Taris looked back at him, Menelaus' face became snarled in rage. "You impudent, BITCH!!!"

He leapt from his chair and pushed her against the large marble horse. The hot air from his exacerbated lungs spilled out over her face. She leaned her head back trying to escape the look he dug into her with, but her wrists were pinned under his constricting grip above her head. Tears began to well in her eyes as she began to shake her head. She was truly frightened. He looked like a man on the brink of insanity and perhaps he was.

"Please! I'm sorry!! Let me go," she cried out, pushing against him with her torso.

He sneered in her face. He didn't care that she felt fearful of him. "You are worthless!! You should feel grateful to me for making you a queen and all you do is whine, you bitch! What kind of woman are you anyway," he spat out with vengeful, searing words. Menelaus ran a hand down to her pouting belly, shaking and pushing into it as he spewed again, "You couldn't even produce me an heir!!!"

Taris' eyes closed as the tears began to fall from her face. Her lips were curled in pain. Menelaus continued to sneer before forcefully letting go of her wrists and returning to his throne, a bored look on his weathered face.

She fell the ground in a sobbing heap. Tears streamed from her face and her nose ran. "You MONSTER," she cried out through the racking spasms in her chest as another onslaught of sobs caught at her throat. Her hands clutched the white silk of her gown, pulling the garment up while she stood. Her green eyes were reddened from burning tears which gleamed in the candlelight. She took a hand and wiped them away all the while staring at the heartless man before her. "You're PATHETIC!! You pine away all your days for something you were never able to possess!!!"

Menelaus' eyes grew dark. He lunged at her and with a forceful swipe, backhanded Taris across the face. Her head whipped to the side from the impact and when it came back around, a small trail of blood started to run from her lip. "You son of a bitch," she breathed out.

Her hand went to her face to block any further strikes, but before he could attack her again, the sound of footsteps nearing stopped him in his tracks. The shadowed form of a guard came into sight. Taris looked from man to man and with a stifled sob she ran from the room, her white gown trailing behind her.

Menelaus bit at his lip and looked at the approaching figure. His mind was already absent of any matters concerning his wife. He turned back to the throne and sat, rubbing the sides of his face with his hands.

"Has the group you sent out returned yet?"

The brawny man was dressed in armor. His helmet was cradled under his arm and a hand sat on the hilt of his sword. He bowed in recognition before standing tall once more and answering the question. "No, they have not, your sire."

The king let an exasperated growl exit his lips and slammed his fist upon the arm of his throne. His fingers began to tap upon the surface as he leaned back and closed his eyes, bobbing his head back and forth across the jewel encrusted surface. "It's still early yet. The pass at Therapne? Has word been sent?"

"Yes, your sire. They sent word back as well stating that they'll keep their eyes out." The young man's eyes fell upon the remnants of the shattered flask which were scattered across the floor. He figured that, yet again, the king of Sparta was drunk. Turning his attention back toward the imposing man, he asked, "Would you like me to get someone to clean that up for you, King Menelaus?"

The old man lowered his head and looked down, a small chuckle crossing his lips. "Oh, that. Yes, and while you're at it--tell them to bring me more wine."

***********************************************************

The moon was high in the sky. Its illumination fell in glorious streams of blue light across the countryside. A fine mist of fog layered the ground, swirling around the fetlocks of the two horses walking steadily along an unbeaten path. The sound of their hooves striking the ground was soothing in its rhythmic beat.

Crickets also chimed into the melody, rubbing their wings and singing songs known only to them. Above, in the dense foliage of trees, nocturnal birds joined in the choir.

Gabrielle smiled a little, letting her mind be eased by the playful chorus. Her green eyes took in the surroundings and the sweet smell of jasmine that wafted through the air.

"What a beautiful place."

The warrioress, walking between the horses, glanced up and quietly nodded her head.

Ares sat atop Xena's horse. After a long day's ride, she chose to lessen her mare's burden and walk instead. Xena looked up at him. That same sad countenance was all she saw. She could completely understand why, yet it was still so unsettling.

He had been incredibly weak from dehydration, so much so, that he had nearly fainted earlier. She had since made sure that he continued to drink plenty of water. Ares' chest would need to remain bound and the lacerations that littered his back would be tended to as soon as they reached the storage shelter.

She knew the worst of the wounds were not of the physical kind.

Ares was right. He had lost everything, including his status and family. No one seemed to know what had actually happened to Aphrodite. The last time she had been seen was after bringing the Warrior Princess to Olympus. Ares didn't know what had befallen his sister even, but right now, his mind was too tired to think about it. He had lost so much, and after spending months in Sparta's jail... beaten, starved, and isolated... he seemed to have also lost himself.

Xena swallowed back as her mind wrapped around this. Her lips pursed in thought, she stared up at him again.

He pulled the horse to a halt and grimaced as the animal obeyed. The bandages on his ribs only constricted their movement so much.

Xena cocked her head. "Something wrong?"

He raised a finger to his lips and rolled his eyes to the right. After holding this pose for a few moments, he lowered his hand and shook his head. "I thought I heard something. I guess I was wrong."

Gabrielle and Xena exchanged glances and the warrioress suddenly turned around, pulling her sword from its scabbard. Her blue eyes pierced through under her lashes, a smirk of anticipation crawling across her lips.

Gabrielle's brows lowered. She leaned forward in her saddle and quietly asked, "What is it?"

Xena didn't turn to look at her, but merely raised a hand, signaling her to remain silent. The crack of a tree limb suddenly came from the right. All eyes peered in its direction wearily.

Ares dismounted from Xena's mare and looped the reins around a branch. Clutching his chest he bent down and picked up a large, fallen, tree limb and grasped it firmly in his hand.

Xena turned around, her black hair falling over her shoulders, and signaled for Gabrielle to dismount. The bard did so, also throwing the length of her reins around a nearby branch. She pulled her sais from her boots and with an opened mouth, quietly walked toward Xena.

"What is it?"

"Three to the right, two to the left," the warrioress whispered.

Ares walked up to the pair. His deep brown eyes jetted back and forth waiting for the oncoming attack. Xena put a hand on his shoulder and pointed toward the horses, silently telling him to get back.

Although his condition was poor, he stood his ground. He shook his head at her defiantly, and before she could protest another twig snapped. All three immediately stood back to back.

Xena looked over her shoulder. "Get ready."

It was then, that over the sounds of the night, the breaking of limbs and crushing of leaves could be heard. It was, no doubt, the intruders. This was confirmed when three armored Spartans jumped out of the bushes with their swords drawn.

Xena immediately went to action. The first man that came for her left his midsection completely vulnerable in his over-zealous pursuit. As he ran at her, yelling in an attempt to up the fear factor, he held his sword high above his head. Xena simply raised her own and thrust it into the soldier's gullet. He fell to the ground lifelessly.

Ares saw the sword roll from the dead man's grasp. He dropped the tree limb and with a kick of his foot, launched the weapon into his hand. The hilt was weighted due to the ornamentation, but he quickly became accustomed to it. Closing his eyes briefly as a tinge of pain shot through him, Ares went into battle stance waiting for the chance to attack. The other two soldiers, however, had made their way toward the bard.

Foolishly seeing her as an easy target, one man dipped his sword at her knees, a move intercepted by the sturdy steel prongs of the sai in her left hand. She jerked her hand upward, causing his arm to fly back, leaving him open. With a quick jab, brought up under the armor that concealed his abdomen, the sharp spike impaled the soft flesh of the soldier's stomach.

Gabrielle felt the warm blood begin to pour over her clenched fingers. She wrenched her hand away, the sai dripping with the slick liquid. The regret of what she'd done began to wash over her, and before she could reckon with it, the next man was upon her. With a foul swoop of his arm he threw her backward and to the ground.

She stared up at him, fear piercing through her green eyes. His face was contorted with rage, his sword held firm between two hands ready to strike. Her mouth fell open as she waited for it to come down, when suddenly, the expression on his face turned to that of shock. She looked on confusedly as he clutched his chest and turned around.

It was then that the bard's questioning gaze was answered as she saw a sword stuck in his back. Xena's hands were upon the hilt, her lips pulled down in a disgusted sneer, nostrils slightly flared. The warrioress placed a foot on his backside and kicked him down while she pulled her sword out.

"Are you alright," Xena questioned.

Gabrielle nodded and got to her feet. "Sorry, I froze for a second."

Xena's back was turned. One of the Spartans saw this as an opportunity and raced from the bushes. Ares darted toward her, feeling the sharp twigs below dig into his feet, and pushed her out of the way just as the enemy would have struck. The soldier's sword came down forcefully as Ares thrust his upward, bending one knee to the ground, grinding his teeth in pain as his ribs expanded. The clashing swords sparked in a dazzling fusion.

Xena watched on in shock.

Bending his arm, Ares elbowed the Spartan at the waist, causing the man to take a step back. It was a movement countered instantly as the soldier charged again. Ares got to his feet just in time to block an attack coming in toward his neck. Again, the clanging metal resonated. His nemesis began to exert pressure, forcing the ex-Olympian backward. Ares clenched his jaw as his insides began to ache from the strain. The overbearing man began to smile as he felt victory at hand. It was a short satisfaction, however, for with a swipe of his leg, Ares tripped him.

The Spartan fell to the ground clumsily. His weapon fell under the leaves. Frantically, he tried to feel for it, squirming backwards as the dark figure approached. His attempts were in vain. With a glaring look of despise, Ares brought his sword down with as much strength as he could muster, twisting it as it hit its mark.

Ares' hands remained on the hilt as he breathed out in exasperation over the man's dead body. The lids of his eyes began to come down, squeezing shut tightly as a wave of pain washed over him. The fight had exacerbated his injuries, causing him to draw a sharp intake of air as he stood upright.

Xena crossed her arms and walked over to him, her lips pursed as she shook her head. "What do you think you were doing?"

"Your back was turned. You didn't see him coming."

Laboredly breathing, he looked around at the four dead men who were strewn about the leaves of the forest floor. His eyes squinted as pain shot up through his sides, momentarily causing him to bend over until it subsided.

Again, Xena shook her head. "I would have handled it. You're in no shape to-"

"There's still one more." Ares pointed around at the bodies as he pulled the sword from the one he had dispatched.

She looked around. He was right. She had sensed five men, and yet there were only four bodies. Fights such as these could be disorienting, and she hadn’t realized that one man still lurked in the dark.

"You're right."

Her blue eyes scanned the area. It was dimly lit, save for the blue light of the moon which fell to earth in waves of splendor. Xena cocked her head and listened for any movement. All remained silent, other than the soft humming of crickets. The warrior wasn't convinced, though. Once again, she pulled her sword from its scabbard and waited.

Gabrielle walked over, putting her sais back within the straps of her boots, and silently waited as well. There was a sudden swooping noise as something large came flying out from a nearby bush, buzzing past the bard's head and causing her to jump. This spurt of fear may have been misplaced for it had been just a bat, but no sooner did she realize this, than the remaining soldier darted out from the foliage.

Xena raised her sword as he stood clear of the bushes. The soldier looked the group over. The Spartan then saw the bodies of his dead compatriots. He did the calculations and instead of testing his skill against them, he opted to run.

Xena sneered as the man began to take off down the dark path and reached for her chakram. "Oh, you don't get away that easy."

Ares looked over at her. Her black hair fell about her face. Her chin was lowered down, her eyes up. She was a sight to behold. He waited and watched as her muscles began to tense. Xena's intentions were clear.

Her arm curled back as she prepared to throw the weapon. Abruptly, Gabrielle grabbed her around the joint of the elbow, ceasing her movement. Xena looked at her incredulously. "What are you doing?!"

The warrioress jerked her arm away and launched the disc past the fleeing man. It hit a tree and ricocheted back toward him. He could hear the whirring noise it made and stopped in his tracks, frozen by fear of the unknown. It dug in and spun off his jugular, making a grotesque sound. Disbelievingly, his hands came up to his neck and clutched the wound as he fell to his knees. The Spartan could feel the hot liquid pour down over his hands and emitted a gurgle before falling face down to the ground.

The chakram returned to Xena's hand in a slick jerk. She frowned and pursed her lips before turning her attention to the fallen Spartan soldiers which littered the ground where they stood.

"This one looks like he's the same shoe size," Xena stated as she placed the chakram back on its clasp and knelt down by one of the men.

Ares' was still staring at the man who had just attempted to flee. He took a step back and, finally, turned his attention to where Xena directed. He knew what she was implying. The bottoms of his feet ached from being bare for so long under such poor conditions, and so, he simply nodded.

He felt a pang of human remorse. Somehow, it simply felt wrong to be taking a soldier's gear from his dead body. Though Ares was never one to employ a strict code of honor, he didn't want to do this. It just didn't seem morally right, but given the present situation, it was something he had to do.

"Alright, I'll get the right boot, you get the left," he wearily muttered.

Gabrielle was still in shock over what she'd just witnessed. Her mouth hung open, her eyes were wide. She stared down at the warrioress who busily tugged on a boot. "Xena?!"

She looked up as she continued to slide the boot off of the fallen soldier and stuck out her jaw before looking away again. She knew what was on her friend's mind. In all their years of traveling together, Gabrielle had never witnessed, with her own eyes, Xena kill someone in cold blood.

Xena looked at Ares, whose expression was still sullen, and offered the boot. He reached over and took it from her. He had just pulled the other off as well, and began to slide them on, his eyes glued to her in anticipation of what her response would be.

"It had to be done, Gabrielle." She stood up and walked over to her mare, pulling her water skin and a cloth from the saddle bag. Xena drank deeply before continuing, "had he gotten ba-"

The bard, who had followed close behind, shot a hand up, and cut her off. "NO, you did NOT need to do that! You could have tied him to a tree, brought him with us-"

"Had he gotten BACK to Sparta- there would be no chance of getting out of here. I wasn't about to gamble on it! I don't know what we're going to do yet and the LAST thing we need is another, bigger, more equipped search party after us! I did the ONLY thing I could do!" Xena's eyes softened and she put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

Gabrielle nodded and looked down. "Yeah, I know, it's ok. It's just that-"

"Your heart is in the right place. Unfortunately, there was no other way around it. Your opinion does matter to me, but I need to do this my way." Xena meekly smiled and walked away.

The bard breathed in and looked down at her palms. She closed her eyes to the sight of them before turning to her own horse. She opened her saddle bag and pulled out a cloth. Wiping it diligently over her hands, she sighed.

Xena had since walked over to where Ares was now, slowly, standing up. His jaw clenched as he moved into the upright position. She extended her arm to him, offering the water skin.

"Here. You almost fainted earlier today due to dehydration. Drink up."

He looked up at her and took it, tipping his head in thanks. The cool water felt so good running down his throat. Satisfied, he put the cap on and handed it back to her. "Thank you." He stifled a cough and looked away.

She watched him stand there, desperately trying to come off like nothing was wrong. She knew otherwise, however. Not much had changed in the few hours they'd been traveling together and although he attempted to conceal it, she could see that he was very weak and in a great deal of pain. Each movement he made that was too abrupt was followed by a brief wince. She couldn't fathom how he could put up such a strong front or how he'd put up such a strong fight for that matter. She figured it was adrenaline induced and that, very soon, he'd realize what a mistake it'd been for him to jump in.

She tilted her head as she ran her eyes over him. "You shouldn't have fought, Ares. I could have handled it."

Ares bowed his head and breathed out. "You shouldn't be handling any of it at all." He stared deep into her eyes and tried to convince her. "I'm asking you, again, to leave this matter be. There's no need for you to get involved."

She looked him straight in the eye and extended her chin. "It's my choice, and it's been made."

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