Judgment (Part 5)
by Something Royal

Webmaster Note: To make this story load a little easier in your browser, it was split into several web pages. This page begins Part 5 of "Judgment" by Something Royal. Part 1 is HERE.

The light of day peered through the holes of the barn's roof. Particles of dust floated visible to the eye within the beams, never finding a place to rest. The horses softly nickered, welcoming the warmth of the new day. Birds flew in and out of the patchy roofing, engaged in some sort of game of chase. One would fly in, land on a cobweb covered rafter, only to then set to the air as another swooped in.

Queen Taris idly stroked the gelding's soft grey coat. Her eyes were lowered, taking in the sight of Cassia within the slatted board stall. The girl diligently worked at tightening the girth of the saddle. She shared a look with the older woman as a noise continually rang out within the old weathered barn.

Xena was propped in front of her horse's stall. Gabrielle sat next to her, leering. She'd never seen the warrioress' eyes so deadpan. With a stone clutched firmly in her right hand, Xena forcefully brought it down along the edge of her sword. Her left hand firmly grasped the hilt. The weapon was held between her propped up knees, its tip piercing the hay strewn floor. She worked methodically, honing the already sharp steel. With each powerful stroke, the metal cried out. The sound resonated throughout the barn. It was extremely unnerving and the bard could scarcely comprehend how Xena could continue this action as though it made not a sound.

Gabrielle raised a shaky hand and placed it on her armored shoulder. "I think it's as sharp as it's going to get."

Xena didn't acknowledge her words. She continued working the stone against the sword as if not a word had been spoken.

Rising up onto her knees, Gabrielle tightened her grip on her shoulder. "Xena...It's as sharp as it's going to get," she repeated.

Still, she continued on. Her black hair shook as her arm came down again and again, faster and faster. With each downward thrust of the stone, Xena winced. Her eyes fumed with angst and a need for revenge. The bard couldn't deny that this disturbed her. Seeing Xena in this state brought to mind what the warrioress must have looked liked when she went by a different name--when she was referred to as the 'Destroyer of Nations'.

Gabrielle began to shake her shoulder and this time, with a more fervent plea, tried to refocus her friend. "Xena! Stop!"

Finally, she looked up. The expression on her face was blank. "What," she asked, as though this was the first time Gabrielle had spoken to her throughout the course of the past hour.

"You're really starting to worry me. I realize that you're under a lot of pressure, but-" The bard stopped short, lifting her eyes up as Xena rose from the ground and stood.

Shaking flakes of hay and dust from her leathers, Xena held her sword up in the other hand, taking in the sight of her work. She tilted it in her hand to gaze at it from another angle before reaching down, picking up her scabbard, and sliding the weapon in. She then dropped it to the ground, incredulously shaking her head.

"A lot of pressure," Xena asked, sliding out the piece of wood that enclosed the stall in front of her. She scooped her saddle up from the ground and went to her horse. "That's one way of putting it," she continued, as she tossed the item on top of the mare.

Gabrielle stood. "I can't say I've ever seen you this..this...I don't know what to call it." The bard leaned against the stall frame as she watched Xena continue to tack up the mare. "Your plan is solid, Xena. You shouldn't worry so muc-"

In the midst of flipping the reins over her mare's head, the warrioress stopped and lowered her arms. She spared Taris and Cassia a quick glance, noting that the pair was staring at her just as intently as her best friend.

Xena looked away and flipped the reins. "Things don't always go according to plan, Gabrielle. For this to work, it must all go down concisely and I don't know what Menelaus intends to do, or when."

Gabrielle shrugged and ran her hand along the dust laden paneling of the stall. "Taris told us that Menelaus doesn't even come back till tonight. There's still time."

"True, but I'm not going to leave it to chance."

"I understand, Xena," the queen replied.

Cassia crouched under the closure of the grey's stall. Standing upright again, she wiped her hands on her cotton cloak and took a breath. "Well, I'm ready to go whenever you are."

"Alright, now remember what I told-" Xena stopped mid-sentence as a noise generating from outside the barn caught her attention. Her head jerked up and she took a step out of the stall. She reached for her scabbard, pulled out the sword, and started to stealthily move toward the barn door.

Gabrielle clasped her arm and lowered a brow, peering up at her from behind. "What is it?"

Xena raised a silencing finger, her eyes still fixated on the splintered wood door. "Shhh." With slow calculating steps, she continued to move forward. The straw beneath her boot treads emitted hushed crackles as it was trod upon. Tilting her head back, the warrioress looked to the three women behind her and quietly stated, "I want you all to stay here."

The bard adjusted a metal gauntlet-like bracelet and shook her head. "No, I'm coming with you-" She started to bend over, reaching for the sais strapped against her boots.

"I need you to watch over them, Gabrielle. I'm not sure what's out there-just please do as I ask." Xena's blue eyes pleaded for her to concede.

With a hand loosely around the handle of one the sais, she paused. Gabrielle realized that she should indeed stay to protect Cassia and Taris from whatever it was that lurked beyond the barn door.

Slowly, she began to rise and placed a hand on her friend's arm. "Fine. Be careful though," she reluctantly responded.

Xena slightly nodded and reached for the handle. The frame creaked as it came ajar. She raised her weapon an inch and stepped out into the light, closing the door behind her.

The bard's mouth was agape as she stood staring at where her friend had just been. She felt rather uneasy. Part of her wanted to follow suit even though Xena had told her not to. 

Suddenly, Gabrielle jerked her head around, noticing the warm touch of a hand upon her shoulder.

"She'll be alright," Cassia stated.

The bard nodded and faintly smiled. "She always is." 

"But, are you alright?"

Gabrielle lowered her head and swayed. She didn't know the answer to this question. She shrugged meekly, her green eyes looming down at the straw littered ground. "I'm worried about Xena... In all the years we've traveled together..she's never been so..so," she looked toward the patchy roof and shrugged again, "ugh, I don't even know what to call it."

At this, Taris, who had been thoughtfully petting the grey horse all this time, stopped and raised her chin. "When someone you love is threatened-"

Gabrielle cut her off as she turned to face her. "We've been through worse than this though, and still-"

"Perhaps, but Ares is in great danger. She's never had to face the fact that he could be in such peril."

The bard's mouth dropped open.

Yes, she had come to the conclusion that her friend cared for him deeply, but love? It was a little too much for her to handle, especially since the warrioress never spoke of her past with Ares until recently. It all seemed to come out of the blue.

"Are you implying that Xena loves Ares, Taris," she asked skeptically.

"Well, I would think that was quite apparent. She was once Ares' chosen."

Gabrielle put a hand on the stall frame and leaned. Her eyes dashed back and forth from Cassia to Taris. "Yea...but, she was also Ares' enemy."

"Well, they say that the line between love and hate is a thin one," Cassia offered.

Gabrielle gazed up at the dangling cobwebs overhead as she remembered something that she and Xena had talked about the other night.

"It's so hard to walk that line."

"And what just recently happened on Olympus, do you think that line has been blurred?"

"I think it erased it.."

Her eyes opened wide, amazed that she had just not realized it until now.  In a way, she was happy for her friend, but she was also scared for her. Gabrielle couldn't help but notice a change in Xena. Even the way that she had gone about sharpening her sword was enough to cause worry. It was completely unsettling.

Maybe... Taris was right after all.

The bard shuddered at the thought of what might happen if they failed in freeing the ex-Olympian. After all the years of fearing that Xena would revert back to her old ways if she conceded to Ares' manipulations, never did she consider what would happen if--

Gabrielle took a deep, shaky breath and brought her hands to her face.

In the wake of Ares' death...would Xena succumb to her old ways...would she once again become a monster?

The bard turned around, pressing her back against the stall frame. Her hands remained at her face, eyes wide in fear. Cassia's brows lowered. She stepped toward her and with an empathetic stare asked, "What's wrong?"

Gabrielle's ice cold hands slid from her face. "We can't let that execution happen."

"Yea...I know. That's the whole point of this." Cassia was truly confused. The look on her face showed that clearly. Her hazel eyes glanced at Taris, who also sat perplexed.

Gabrielle put both of her hands on Cassia's shoulders, her face exuding a desperation of sorts. "No, you don't understand. There's more at risk here than I thought."

Before the girl's words of response could even come to fruition, Gabrielle bent down, pulled the sais from her boots, and began to march over to the door.

Taris took a step forward, raising her hand as if to stop her. "Xena told us to wait-"

Gabrielle didn't stop, but just as she was about to put a hand on the door, it swung open. She jumped back, startled. There stood Xena, and behind her, with burs and other sorts of foliage scattered through its hair, was Gabrielle's horse.

"I guess he could smell the other horses. I found him lurking at the front of the barn." Xena words were slow and she looked questioningly at the bard. "Going to ambush me?" She pointed to the sais in her friend's hands and before Gabrielle could answer, she strode past her, leading the gelding behind.

"No, I was just about to go look for you," she answered, placing the weapons back in their place.

Xena stopped a few feet into the barn and turned around. "I told you to stay here." The words were firm, almost bitter. Quickly, she lowered her head and shook it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap." The Warrior Princess' tone softened as she waved her friend over. "C'mere."

Gabrielle's expression was still one of leeriness. There was something unsettling about the look in her friend's eyes, but the bard walked over to Xena as if nothing was wrong. "Yeah?"

She put a hand on the saddle. "It looks like all of your belongings are still here. Your bedroll, satchel," Xena lifted the leather flap of the pouch, "your scrolls. I'm sure you're happy about that."

For a moment, Gabrielle felt at ease. She peered down into her satchel and smelled the unique scents of parchment and ink. This produced a tiny smile. Cassia definitely noticed. More of Gabrielle's famous scrolls were just mere steps away. The girl couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for not informing the bard of the one she had stored within her quarters in Sparta.

"Cassia, go get your horse. It's time to get this bonfire started," Xena stated, sparing Gabrielle a brief glance as she handed her the gelding's reins.

The Warrior Princess started off toward her mare's stall. Bending down at the frame of the enclosure, she picked up her scabbard, slid her sword in, and quickly hooked the item to her back. Xena then reached for her satchel and slid it over her armored shoulder.

"We gotta hurry, it looks like it's going to storm soon. Clouds are moving in," she stated in a worried tone as she lead the horse out of the stall.

Taris looked up through the patchy roof of the barn. What Xena had just relayed was true. She could see dense, grey clouds begin to roll in, darkening the interior of the structure. "Think we can beat the rain?"

"We have to," was the warrioress' simple and direct answer.

"Ready," Cassia stated, pulling the grey out of its stall. Her wavy black hair was held back under the hood of her cloak. Taris took this as a cue to raise her own.

Gabrielle, meanwhile, leaned against the shoulder of her horse, watching Xena intently. The bard was still convinced that her friend was succumbing to her vengeful ways. Even though it was subtle, she had traveled with her long enough to notice the unfamiliar gleam behind her friend's blue eyes.

She flipped the reins over her gelding's head and swallowed back as her hand rested upon the animal's soft mane. "Xena?"

"Yes," she asked, making sure the girth of her saddle was secure, not taking into account the disconcerting look on her best friend's face.

"Everything is going to be alright, Xena..one way or the other." Gabrielle's words drifted along the dust laden air, falling almost deftly upon the warrioress' ears as she began to move toward the door with her mare in tow. The bard started after her, Cassia and Taris following suit.

"Xena."

With a hand on the door, Xena jerked her head around. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders and she lowered her brows. "What did you say?"

Gabrielle brought her gelding to a halt and reiterated, this time a bit louder, "I was saying that- everything is going to be alright, one way or the other- just keep your focus and we'll make it through. We always do."

"No, there's only one way this is going to work." With that, she started out the door.

Gabrielle lowered her head. She was truly frightened about what the outcome of this could produce. She just didn't want to show it, didn't want to acknowledge it, but it was so apparent that she couldn't just push it away. It was amazing how quickly Xena's moods could change. Just last night, she seemed focused. Worried, but focused. Yet, with the dawn of the new day, there seemed to be a drastic change in her friend's demeanor. There was a sense of desperation.

Perhaps that desperation was there all along and the bard just didn't notice it. She was wrestling with her own. There were so many things that she wanted to say. Throughout the course of the night, she wrestled with the fact that she had to find her own way. It was not an easy thing to accomplish, especially because the bard had to do it on her own.

It was clear that Xena's attentions were focused elsewhere. Part of Gabrielle resented this, while the other understood. Regardless, she was dedicated to standing by Xena's side. She was her best friend, her family, and she didn't want to let the Warrior Princess down.

They had to rescue Ares-- or she feared the Xena she had come to know, would no longer be.

Gabrielle took a deep breath and walked out into the brisk air, her horse at her side. She could hear the sound of wood being stirred as Cassia and Taris' horse trod upon a few broken boards that littered the ground. She turned back to face them.

"Are you ready?"

Both women nodded. Cassia looked Xena, who was squatted just a few feet away by a green leafy push, pulling items from her leather satchel. "Looks like she's more than ready."

Gabrielle sullenly agreed. "Yea..and we gotta be just as ready. She's counting on us."

Xena looked up at the darkening sky. She could smell the impending rain. Her eyes were cold and calculating as she lowered her stare, scanning the scattered wood that sat upon the dusty ground. Finding a dried up piece to her liking, she scooped it up and set it down next to her satchel. She reached into the pack and pulled out a small, dusty jar of lamp oil that she had found in the barn last night. Xena also grabbed a rag. She popped off the lid of the jar and pressed the cloth to the mouth of it, saturating the fabric. It was then that she picked up the old splintered stick and wrapped the rag around the tip.

Carefully propping the oil jar under her arm, she pulled out two flint rocks from her satchel. Still in the other hand was the makeshift torch. Walking past the trio of women, Xena's eyes never left her intended path. She stopped at the foot of the barn door, put the torch between her teeth, and took the oil from under her arm. She opened the jar, spilling the contents upon the straw floor.

She shrugged and tossed the bottle into the barn as well. She certainly didn't need it anymore. Now, it was time to really get things heated up.

The warrioress crouched down and began slamming the flint stones together over the saturated straw, till finally, a spark grew into a small flame. Quickly, she dropped the torch from her teeth and dipped the cloth covered tip to the growing fire. It ignited. She smirked.

With torch in hand, she hastily bounded off, turned the corner of the barn and tossed it through a hole in the wall. Smoke began to rise and spill out of the worn structure. She could hear the sound of soft crackling embers.

The dusty, old barn was so dried out, that the fire began to consume it like a piece of papyrus.

Wild-eyed, she sinisterly glared at the sight. Black locks of hair swept across her shoulders and a finger ran across the chakram at her side. She looked most imposing-- a bit of that old Destroyer seemed to peer out through those feral eyes.

Xena spoke one word--

"Burn"

The smell of smoke filled her nostrils, emitting a scent almost like spice. She wasn't the only one to take notice. Xena could hear the horses nicker fearfully, realizing that the structure before them was on fire. The warrioress quickly ran back to the front of the barn. She untethered her mare from the branch of a tree and tilted her chin in the direction of her wary companions.

"C'mon! We gotta go," Xena yelled. Settling into the seat of her worn leather saddle, she reined the horse in as it excitedly side-stepped and steered her away from the fire. 

Gabrielle looked at the two women on either side of her. "It's time," she stated, grabbing the stirrup of her saddle. The bard hurriedly mounted and gathered her reins before joining Xena at the tree line.

The grey bellowed softly while Cassia helped the queen mount. Once she was settled in, the girl climbed up in front of her. "Hold on to me."

Taris meekly smiled and wrapped her arms tightly around the young woman's waist. "Thank you for watching out for me and my child."

Cassia shook her head. "No, thank you"

"For what?"

"For treating me like a person, not a slave."

At that, she clicked her tongue against her teeth, prompting the gelding into a comfortable trot in an effort to catch up to Xena and Gabrielle.

As they came plodding up behind the pair, Xena turned her head around. For a brief instant, she acknowledge the two, but just as quickly moved her gaze to the smoke rising above the dense tree line.

Again, Xena whispered, "Burn."

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

The throne room of the Spartan palace was awash with sunlight. Dented shields and nicked swords glinted. Magnificent tapestries, so intricately woven, lapped the stone walls they were hung from as a gentle current of wind poured in from an opened window. Crisp morning breeze was imbued with the aroma of freshly baked breads and foreign spices, emanating from the square below.

And the sounds--oh, the sounds were magnificent. Lyres were plucked by the most capable minstrels as they played for the gathering Spartans. Their melodies flew to great heights and filtered into the walls of the palace. These enchanting instrumentals filled the ears of all those in attendance with the promise of a most entertaining day, a most grand celebration---and for one man in particular, the grandeur of power.

There, just beyond the windows' open panes, was Menelaus. Green velvet was draped across his shoulders and spilled down to the floor. Light shimmered across the fabric and the finely stitched royal emblem that adorned it. It was a regal cape indeed. Beneath it, the old man wore an elaborately embossed, silver chest plate. The lengths of a white chiton hung from under it. Atop his head sat the royal crown. Its jewels sparkled as the sunlight kissed them.

Yet, about his waist hung something not conceived of mortal hands. It was made of black leather, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but the silver ornamentation was the work of Hephaestus. The King of Sparta was wearing Ares' empty scabbard.

One hand sat idle upon the cool stone sill of the window, while the other's fingers clasped the ornate pendant about his neck. This belonged to Ares as well, but as far as Menelaus was concerned, the ex-Olympian wouldn't need it any longer--he would never need anything ever again.

Menelaus' eyes loomed down to the square below, setting them upon a thick, two foot tall pillar of wood that sat atop the scaffolding. He inwardly grinned. The tumultuous crowd of commoners seethed in expectation.

The monarch grinned again. Each crease upon his weather worn skin immerged. In a room of cascading shadows and light, he slowly took a step back and turned on his heel. Now, before him, mere steps away, was the last item needed.

There, in the seat of the throne, standing on its tip, was Ares' infamous sword. It gleamed magnificently in the light. The edges were finely honed and not a single knick scarred the metal. Like the Olympian hand that had wielded it for centuries, it was perfect.

Sandals, laced to the knee, echoed upon the stone floor as Menelaus took step after step toward the item. He extended an arm and placed his wrinkled hand on the hilt, firmly curling his fingers around it. He lifted the sword, gazing at the sheer beauty of it, and taking note of its undeniable history. The old king twirled the weapon about in his hand, smiling wildly.

"Yes, today is a day that will be renown the world over," he stated, admiring the blade.

Sunlight slid and twisted across the metal, coalescing with the reflection of Menelaus' own face. The sovereign's old brown eyes, so faded and murky, sat fixed upon the image, encompassing him briefly in his own thoughts. It wasn't until moments later that he finally registered the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him.

Menelaus spun around, the sword firmly gripped in his hand. The tip was lightly pressed to the throat of the visitor, who promptly raised hands of concession.

"You know you shouldn't sneak up on me," the old king relayed with a wild-eyed expression.

The man before him began to quickly nod his head. Greying brown curls bounced and he warily swallowed back as a finger from one of his still uplifted hands pointed to the weapon. "Yessss, I know that, but is this really necessary?"

Menelaus tilted his head and grinned. "I suppose not." Again, he smiled as he lowered his arm and took a step back. He playfully twirled the sword and turned around as he poised it down and into the scabbard. "So, is everything in order then, Phazon?"

Menelaus made his way back to the window and looked down at the square.

"Everything is ready. The guards are holding him within the hallway."

"Wonderful," the king replied, pressing a hand to the window sill. "Everything is so utterly perfect. Just look. Look at how my people swarm en mass to witness their leader go down in history. This will be the day that marks the start of a new order in Greece."

"To be sure. Are you ready for that," Phazon asked, taking a step toward the window himself.

The light of the sun poured through the opened window, gleaming across Menelaus' eyes. He grinned deeply, staring down at the mass of people below and listening to the soothing hum of their expectancy. "Look at it all, Phazon. They stand there... waiting... waiting for me." Without turning around, he questioned, "So, have you seen my dear wife, Phazon?"

The councilman shifted his weight to one foot as he quickly thought up an excuse for her absence. "Well, last I heard she-"

Raising a silencing hand, Menelaus shook his head. "No matter. Her presence isn't necessary." He pointed a finger down at the colorful array of commoners below and beamed. "They are the only audience I need. Again, just look at how they stand and wait. One day, all of Greece will do the same."

"Yes, they will. And under a most competent leader too," Phazon mused. The last sentence, however, wasn't in reference to the old man standing before him, but rather himself. He had many a plan in store once he gained rule.

"Indeed. We must hurry though. As much as I'd like to stand here and absorb the beauty of it all, it looks as though it's going to storm." Menelaus pointed again. "Just look at all the clouds that are gathering and-"

He froze in place. Phazon took a concerned step forward to stand beside him..

"What is it?"

Menelaus' face grew dark as his old grey brows lowered to a flustered point. "LOOK! Don't you see it?! Smoke!! Where is that coming from?!"

Phazon's face whitened as his eyes settled on the rising cloud of black smoke. It drifted  and curled through the sky a mere few hundred yards from Sparta's gates. "The old barn," he muttered in shock.

The monarch's hand clenched into a fist as he shook. "It's Xena! I know it is!!" He spun around violently and placed an urgent hand upon Phazon's shoulder. "Hurry! Call out the elite guards- FIND HER!!"

He began to drag the councilman along with him as he hastily walked toward the hallway. Menelaus' long green cape drifted along the stone floor, billowing out due to the quickened pace.

"Wh-what of Ares, " Phazon sputtered, stumbling along clumsily under the king's forceful hand.

"Tell them to announce me to the crowds now! I will not give Xena the chance to interrupt. Not after all I worked for!"

"But what about guarding the city!"

"There are archers along the walls, and a handful of guards standing by. Now, GO!!!!" Menelaus pushed him and Phazon conceded, taking off for the hall.

Spinning back around, the old man raced to the opened window and stared out at the sea of Spartans below. He clenched his fist and drove it down upon the stone sill as he breathed out in exasperation and ground his teeth.

"Nothing will keep me from my plans! Not even the Warrior Princess."

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

Sparta's commoners filled the square. The smell of baked goods, which sat upon vendor's stands, drifted along the cool air. Sunlight poured down in sporadically. The warming rays dissipated into shadows as clouds moved along the orb. Minstrels continued to strum their lyres. The charming melodies saturated the area, prompting smiles and the tapping of feet.

Before the scaffolding, nearly a dozen armored guards stood by. Their forged armor hung close to their bodies. Atop their heads sat intricately crafted helmets. Green plumes of colored horse hair shifted in the morning's breeze. Hands rested on top of sheathed swords fixed at their waists, and their eyes were unmoving from the mass of people before them.

Children sat upon fathers' shoulders, while young babes sat nestled in the arms of mothers. Gossip and other conversation joined along with the delicate minstrels preludes. People wandered about, some standing at the merchants' tables, bartering for specially priced goods, while others stood in waiting, sipping on cups of mead.

The walls were decorated. Long banners of green and white cascaded down the length of them and gently swayed in the breeze. The palace was also adorned with the same finery. Its great white pillars were wrapped with green, leafy grape vines and silver threading. Granite steps were shrouded in a catwalk of green velvet, set there for the king to trod upon in royal fashion.

Although the first attempt at this execution had also been treated as a festival, it hadn't been as impressive as now. The Spartan sovereign, amazingly waking early after a night of intoxication, had ordered many of these decorations to be set-up before dawn. So it had been carried out, and successfully. No, this time, Menelaus wouldn't merely step out from the side entrance of the palace to carry out the display. This time, he'd make it a grand show.

Once again, jugglers and other entertainers meandered through the crowds, garnering smiles and a dinar here and there. Children ran through the mass, playing games of chase and giggling with each step. Their parents, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, and neighbors stood in their finest attire. Now that they knew what to expect, they wanted to look their best.

This wasn't merely the execution of a slave trader or common criminal-- it was the personification of War himself.

Chitons, in an array of colors, graced the seen. Sandals were laced knee-high. Most women had pulled their hair up and threaded it, allowing the lengths to cascade down their backs in tight ringlets, while the men had combed theirs in a Roman fashion. They looked most impressive.

Many more townspeople began to pour in from the inner city which sat behind the palace. They trickled in, much like a parade of sorts, throwing salutations out to those they knew as they entered the main square. Yes, the crowd was certainly electrified with the pulse of excitement as they awaited, most eagerly, for the main event to proceed.

Although their appearance was misleading, Sparta truly appeared to be a most imposing city this day. If one didn't know any better, they would think it a city to rival that of Athens. The truth of the matter was that, at the very core, the stability of this once prodigious land was fundamentally skewed.

While the people appeared to be so grand and noble, most would change into scratchy cotton attire at the closing of the festival. The garnets and other jewelry would be taken off and put back for safe keeping, perhaps to barter for food another day. Farming equipment would replace the drinks they now held. Not only that, but the children would be rounded up and ordered to carry out chores to help support their families.

But, that would be later. For now, the Spartans commiserated and smiled, all in anticipation of what was in store. They didn't need to wait long.

A juggler stopped mid-toss and one of the minstrels pulled a string as both heard the sound of horns echo out above the hum of the crowd. The reverberation bounced against Sparta's stone walls, prompting hearts to skip and race. The time was nearly at hand. All conversation stopped and eyes darted toward the grand main door of the palace.

Standing beneath marble archway was a dark figure, shrouded by shadow. The crowd stood silently as slowly, foot was placed before foot. Shifting streams of light fell over the man, revealing only sparse detail as to who it was till, finally, two hands reached skyward as he came to a halt upon the top step of the green carpeted steps.

It was then, that the Spartan people released the breath they'd been holding and cried out in adoration. Their cheers swelled and rose, taking up a rhythm and singular exclamation.

"Menelaus!"

"Menelaus!"

"Menelaus!"

"Menelaus!"

The King of Sparta grinned from ear to ear, taking in each syllable. Hands still raised to the sky, he waved them about in salutation. The crowd continued to cheer as he made his way down the stairs. Each sandaled foot fell upon the carpet as if he was walking toward his destiny. At the base of the palace steps, he purposefully continued on toward another set of stairs, these ascending to the top of the wooden scaffold.

Phazon followed behind in the monarch's shadow. He too, climbed the stairs of the scaffolding. Once to the top of the creaking wood, he took his spot at the back of the stage.

Menelaus, of course, took to the front. A wicked smile still graced his old face and the crow's feet on either side of his eyes deepened. A wrinkled hand fell to the hilt of the sword at his side, while the other rose in acknowledgement of the sea of Spartans before him.

He surreptitiously cleared his throat, suppressing a cough, and took another step toward the commoners. "Good citizens of Sparta! Mere days ago, I stood here before you. For the loss and decline of the Spartan people--of all of you--and all due to War...justice was to be served."

The crowd mumbled in hushed whispers, nodding their heads and raising their fists. Words could be made out here and there, stemming from different areas of the square.

"Retribution!"

"Death to Ares!"

"To Justice!!"

Menelaus began to deliberately pace along the top of the scaffold, his right hand never leaving the hilt of the sword. The old man's eyes held such an undeniable malevolence behind them. "As you all know, Ares managed to escape due to the meddling of the Warrior Princess, Xena."

As he sneeringly mentioned the warrioress', the crowed echoed back his sentiments and promptly began to boo. They had heard tales of her heroic deeds, but Menelaus had convinced them that, because she had rescued Ares, she was the enemy. Thus, they continued to wail out in admonishment.

This caused the sovereign to stop in place at the center of the stage and smile. He waited until the boos began to ebb and then pointed a finger out toward the crowd, bobbing it in an all-knowing fashion.

"Her attempts to free Ares were futile, for now he stands waiting to be executed. And she... well, lets just say that Sparta's elite are currently taking care of that little problem. No one will stand in the way of Sparta's destiny!!!"

The crowd roared in approval.

"We come together this day,  in retribution for the Trojan War-- for the family many of you lost, for the downfall of our economy and times of dissolution," Menelaus shouted over the cheers.

Those cheers now fell into soft mumblings, and one woman's voice cut through them.

"Where's Queen Taris!?"

Menelaus quickly jerked his head back to look at Phazon. The little man offered nothing more but a blank stare. The monarch tilted his royally crowned head before facing the crowd once more. He rolled his shoulders beneath the elaborate green cape in a shrug.

"She's tending to other Spartan affairs, I'm told. But, no matter-the time has come, and this time there will be no delays." He took daunting steps toward the two foot high wooden pillar at the center of the stage and propped a foot upon it. He looked toward the side entrance of the palace and an order flew past the gates of his lips. "Bring the prisoner out!!!"

All eyes moved to look at the door. They waited, most anxiously, to set their stares upon what was, once, an Olympian. This was a day that would forever be remembered. It was the day that War would succumb to mortal hands--the hands of their sovereign, King Menelaus.

Jugulars throbbed against arched necks. Those of shorter stature went up on tip-toes, craning desperately to see the procession. Mothers and fathers hushed their murmuring children, while others brought their young to sit upon their shoulders so they could witness history in the making.

The dense black clouds still loomed portentously overhead, causing the sun's rays to fall and recede. Shadows fell across nearly everything, but, at the first sign of movement, the crowd pushed forward to gain a better view.

Nikolaus stepped out into the square. He was dressed rather plainly for what was to be such a special occasion. He wore a simple, blue, conservative robe, with no sign of ornamentation. The councilman could hear the Spartan citizens softly murmur, but he kept his eyes averted and fingers locked together as he slowly climbed the scaffolding steps. There was a sullen look on his downturned face. It was almost as if he was ashamed to be there, and perhaps he was.

The unnerving creak of wood beneath his feet caused him to look up. He cast a belligerent look at Phazon and stood next to him. Nikolaus crossed his arms and briefly closed his eyes, silently mourning the loss of promise--the promise of true justice and the absence of his dear Taris.

Slowly, he looked up again, turning his head to gaze back at the doorway from which he had just came. The councilman watched warily as the guest of honor stepped through it. Two armored guards were on either side of him.

The crowd began to roar excitedly. Ares, the personification of War himself, now stood in the square.

There, before Sparta's eyes, was a being that had been in existence longer than the mortal mind could count. These people had been raised on tales of the Olympian pantheon. They'd based their culture on them. The irony of the situation was blatantly apparent as the Prince of Olympus, the heir to its throne, made his way toward the scaffold's stairs.

Ares took note of the people. Unlike Nikolaus, he never averted his stare. No, instead, his deep, penetrating eyes were fixated on the crowd. Not once did he falter as he stepped ever closer to the large, wooden scaffold. The soldiers on either side of him gripped his  arms, for he wasn't shackled. Their swords were pressed dangerously to his back, but he held his chin up high and kept his shoulders squared.

Ares looked as regal as ever.

Women couldn't help but inwardly sigh, taking in the impressive line of his body. Unlike last time, he wasn't in brown cotton rags. He was dressed in the attire that he had found in the shelter. Wearing black from head to toe, he looked like a panther on the prowl, rather than a man on his way to meet his end. No one could focus on Ares' bruises and wounds. How could they?  He appeared to be so stoic and so undeniably imposing--fearless in the face of finality.

Reaching the stairs that lead up to the platform, the guards began to constrict their grip on him. He, in turn, promptly wrenched his arms away and spun around. The men looked up at him in wary disbelief. They weren't exactly sure what he intended to do. They knew the action wasn't an attempt to get away, for there he stayed, staring them down as if in warning.

They immediately raised their swords to his throat. Ares didn't budge an inch. He brought both hands up and curled his fingers around each weapon. The soldier's seemed to freeze in place, their eyes fixed on the prisoner's as he pushed their swords down.

"I can walk up the stairs myself," he ground out.

The guards were completely perplexed. They didn't expect Ares to be kicking and screaming all the way to the place of execution, but they didn't expect the ex-Olympian's indifference either.

Menelaus took a step toward the stairs and looked down at them. "C'mon, lets move," he  quietly ordered the guards. He hadn't witnessed what had just occurred, and just as quickly as he'd moved to speak to them, he stepped back away to regard the crowd.

The Spartan soldiers remained immobile. Their mouths were agape, for they still tried to decipher what Ares was up to. Before they could figure it out, he merely sneered at them and took off up the stairs by his own volition.

The men shook their heads incredulously and followed suit behind.

Each step brought a different line of sight. First, it was just the next board before his eyes, then the next. As he proceeded, the level platform's surface came into view, the bottoms of feet, the wooden pillar he'd set his head down in just a matter of minutes and then, as he set foot upon the top and final step, Ares stopped.

There, before his eyes, he could now see the entire spanse of Spartans. Their faces all held the same excited and anticipating gleam. The crowd was comprised of commoners and nobles alike, men, woman, children.... children.

Ares took a shaky breath as his eyes fell to a young girl in the crowd, clutching to her mother's dress. How innocent she looked... how new. Black hair hung about her face, reminding him so much of Xena. A finger was pressed to her rosy, little, pouting lips. Her almond shaped eyes were brown, wide with expectation and, for a moment, he thought that he could almost see himself staring back through them.

Simply looking at the girl caused profound pain. He had never considered taking on the role of a true father to one until faced with the prospect of mortality. When that happened, he could scarcely think of anything else. Ares had wanted a child, a child with Xena. Part of him had never completely given up on that, even when she'd refused him time and time again. He had always stood firm in the belief that, with time, anything could happen--

but now...there was no time left.

Ares tore his stare away from the girl and looked upon the wooden pillar. Menelaus was leeringly propped on it. A wrinkled hand sat upon the hilt of the sword and the monarch raised the other, as if to say, 'here he is,' to the Spartan people.

So this was to be it--the end of what he had once thought a never ending existence? 

Menelaus malevolently smiled and spun around to face the mass of citizens. "People of Sparta! Here stands the once fierce Ares. It is now time for him to face the penalty of his past crimes, but shall we offer him a moment to speak?" He briefly looked back at Ares and mockingly smirked.

The crowd shouted their approval. They wanted to hear Ares try to explain himself. They wanted to hear an explanation for why war was necessary. The cried out in demand of it.

Menelaus faced them again and nodded. "Alright. The people have spoken. So, come Ares, explain yourself! The words you speak now, shall be your last. Choose them wisely."

Ares lowered a brow and set his jaw. He took slow, thoughtful, steps toward the edge of the platform and looked out at the sea of people before him. The smells of spices and breads permeated the breeze, while the sound of rumbling thunder echoed in his ears.

He crossed his arms and lowered his chin, trying to grasp fleeting words that spun like a dizzying storm within his mind. What does one say when their time is up?  They wanted an explanation for war and he had none to offer. These people would not understand. So, rather than try to make them, he decided that his last words would be better serving if they helped the Spartan people understand something else.

Ares cleared his throat and stared intensely at those before him. He could make no excuse for who he was or what he'd done, though, as the words spilled from his lips, each was laden with regret.

"I won't attempt to ask for your pardons. It is no longer in my power to stop what you all see so fit to do, but I leave you with a warning. In greedy hands, absolute power corrupts absolutely."  He paused and pointed at the old man. "Don't follow Menelaus blindly. Ask him... if he feels that war is so unnecessary--then why did the campaign at Troy last for so long?"

The monarch scowled and the crowd spoke not a word. He quickly raised his chin in snobbery and barked out, "Don't listen to him! You all know why the Trojan War happened. Our security was at stake!"

"No, they don't know why the war happened! If they did, then they would know that the Trojans never threatened your security! They would know that war was the product of your obsession for-"

Menelaus rushed up and grabbed him. "ENOUGH!"

Ares whipped his arm out of the sovereign's grasp and took a step back. "Yes. It's time isn't it?" Then, looking out to the crowd before him, he spoke out once more. "I was War itself, but make no mistake-- it will not die with me."

The Spartan citizens stood by, staring incredulously. They didn't know what to make of the whole display. As such, they chose to not ruminate on it at all, and instead arched their necks to witness what they'd come to see in the first place: The execution of Ares.

He looked toward Phazon and Nikolaus, tipping his head at the latter. It was time, and any fear that Ares had felt beforehand no longer coursed through him. He simply swallowed back and set his eyes upon the wooden pillar at the center of the platform as he walked up to it. He took in the sight of each ring of the trunk's core and ever so slowly, he felt his legs begin to give way. Inch by inch, Ares descended. As he felt the first knee connect with the wood planks, he took a shaky breath and set the second one down.

The guards took their posts behind him. Their swords, although unnecessary, were drawn. Oddly enough, whereas Ares seemed so stoic, these men had a sense of nervousness about them. It was almost as if they were unsure of what they were doing. Had Ares' speech reached them in some way? They were soldiers, young ones granted, but no doubt the sons of former war heroes. Perhaps they heard some truth in Ares' words.

As his arms reached around the pillar, he lowered his head, setting his gaze to the sea of Spartans before the platform. The rough wood was cool against the side of his face. Ares had accepted the situation for what it was. Now, all he could do was remain there, waiting for his own sword to come down upon his neck.

Ares tried to take in as much as he could in these final minutes. Again, the smells of exotic spices and breads seeped into his lungs. Never had he truly appreciated them. As an Olympian, he had no need for mortal delights, but now, he longed to let their scent fill him. The brisk morning air caressed his exposed flesh, sending tingles throughout.

How it reminded him of the morning before with Xena by the bank of the Eurotas River...

The sound of thunder rumbled through the darkened sky. The sun was completely shrouded by cumulonimbus clouds and Ares winced briefly, realizing he'd never see the orb which Apollo had boasted about so often, ever again.

Once again, he set his eyes on the crowd. He took in their faces. Each was so different. There was a unique sense of beauty about them that he had never bothered to concern himself with before. And, even though these faces now held nothing but silent pleas for his end, Ares couldn't help but regret not learning from them.

Almost as some sort of reminder that he'd never know what it truly meant to be a father, he found that same little black-haired girl. She innocently stood by. She didn't know what this was all about. She had no concept of war or revenge--why this execution was even taking place. She was so new to the world, however, no matter how old she grew, Ares knew this child would never know Greece as he did, or the world for that matter.

They say when one faces the end of their time on the mortal plane, every memory of their existence flashes before their eyes. Ares had heard of this before, but never had he thought he'd be faced with testing the theory's fidelity. Yet, the longer he stared out into the crowd, the darker their faces grew. The longer he listened to the ominous rolls of thunder, the more they dissipated into nothing but hushed whispers, and the harder he attempted to take in the faint smell of spice, the more diluted the scent became... till everything was overtaken by a black void.

Ares could no longer sense his surroundings, but, even in this state of subconscious thought, there was a feeling of familiarity. As if out of nowhere, a faint sound began to emanate within. It resonated and swelled, enveloping him. It grew louder and more distinct....it was Xena's voice...singing the funeral dirge that he had heard so many times before.

Yes, that was it and Ares, although knowing the painful and climatic melodic tune was a lapsing memory and nothing more, could think of nothing more beautiful to serve as the soundtrack to his life that now flashed before his eyes. It curled around his mind and constricted his swollen heart, but he savored each note of Xena's beautiful voice coming to guide him to the next life.

But, with each journey, there is always a beginning.

Though it was a time long ago, he had once been innocent. There was once a time when he was as unfamiliar with the concept of war as that young black-haired girl. Yes, each journey does indeed start from somewhere, and the memories began to carry him away, all to the rhythm and tune of the funeral dirge.

"Ares, what are you looking at?"

"A winged creature. It flutters about as if it has not a care in the world."

"Ah, a butterfly. Watch."

"It must like you mother, sitting on your hand like that."

"Don't let appearances fool you. While it may seem to be graceful now, it was once a worm. These mortals are much the same way. The may look like us, talk as we do, but they are not the same. We hold a power they can scarcely comprehend."

"And what do we do with that power, mother? Mother, what are you doing?! You're crushing it!"

"Remember, my child--- you are to be the essence of war. Destruction, angst, and retribution--"

"Those words... I don't understand!"

"They are your purpose and I will teach you all you need to know."

~**~**~**~**~

The dirge continued, so soothing to his just recently revealed heart, as he recalled the bitter sense of abandonment.

"Sister, why is it that dad shows such admiration for you, yet... he turns from me?"

"Your mother has claimed you as her keep. While he trains me, you are in her custody."

"Why is it that way?"

"Who better to teach you the ways of spite?"

~**~**~**~**~

Still so new to the stratosphere, his doubts were erased and replaced with apathy.

"I don't know. These mortals are just learning to forge homes, families--"

"Learn to forget what it is to feel empathy. 'Tis a mortal trait."

"Is that such a bad thing, mother?"

"Yes. There is no place for it! Now, it is time. Take this sword as a symbol of your birthright. Feel that power, Ares. Use it. You are the prince of Olympus and at your command legions will rise and scorch the plains to enforce your decrees."

~**~**~**~**~

Ares recalled the first time he felt like he was serving his purpose. The images were so frighteningly clear. The sounds of mortal screams coalesced with the melodic rhythm that saturated his subconscious.

"Your first war. Why all this senseless destruction? The stench of it disgusts me."

"Because, Hera explained it was time, Athena."

"So, how do you feel in wake of this ruthlessness?"

"That I'm doing what I was intended to do."

~**~**~**~**~

Ares remembered what had happened after that.

The rest of the pantheon began to grow somewhat fearful of him. Their wariness had convinced him all the more that he was a success. He was what his mother had taught him to be. He was War. He was retribution, and he was the heir to Olympus.

When he had realized this, something new began to grow within-contempt for those who dared to stand in his way.

"I see that your son's powers are growing greater with each passing decade. He has taken most of Greece under the banner of war, brother."

"I realize that, Hades."

"You both should be thanking me! I'm doing what the others can't seem to. Yea, so I might rule with an iron fist...but they're mortals! Besides, just look at how each war I engage shapes the land. Look at how loyal my legions are, how they fight with such rage."

"But, there must be a less destructive way, nephew."

"No, it's the only way."

~**~**~**~**~

He remembered the sounds of legions declaring their loyalty.

"To fulfill the mighty Ares' destiny to rule the world! To Ares!"

"To Ares!"

~**~**~**~**~

"Athena, back off of my territories or I will be forced to-"

"What? You do not possess a warrior skilled enough to take back Athens. You ruled it for centuries and now it is mine."

"So, they renamed the city after you? That'll be rectified. I will find that warrior, Athena... even if it takes me a thousand years."

~**~**~**~**~

"Mother?"

"Your father..another dalliance with a feeble mortal woman. It has produced a boy...your new half-brother. You must help me, Ares...my child, my favorite."

"What is it you want me to do?"

~**~**~**~**~

"So, Ares- what are we going to do about Hercules?"

"Strife..We'll soften him up where's he's weakest-- his pathetic mortal feelings."

~**~**~**~**~

Still, Xena's mournful song intoxicated him as he remembered... as he remembered it all....

"What is this look in your eyes, Ares? It almost bares a mortal reflection."

"After eons of waiting and watching, I finally found a warrior worthy to be my chosen. She's beautiful. Her hair is as black as-"

"Stop! You sound smitten, a pathetic emotion. Remember, Ares. These mortals, they grow old...while you- you are immortal. The two could never entwine."

"She possesses a rage to equal my own, mother, and when I looked upon her-"

"What did you see?"

"My destiny."

~**~**~**~**~

"Join me, Xena, and together we will rule the world."

"Why me?"

"It is your destiny to be by my side."

~**~**~**~**~

"I brought you a gift. Something that was surely meant for you, and you alone."

"It's unlike anything I have ever seen. Where did you get this?"

"I searched the world over for something worthy of my warrior princess. It was no easy task to accomplish. You, my dear, are hard to shop for."

"You certainly don't disappoint. I  will treasure it... always"

"Well, I like to be different. I got you a ring that can slice and dice."

"And I brought you a ring as well..."

~**~**~**~**~

"You were wonderful, today. Thousands of men littering the ground...I knew the minute I first saw you that you were destined for great things."

"I'm in the mood to engage in our own sword play."

~**~**~**~**~

"For the first time, Ares... I felt this .... I don't know- fear. Not of the enemy army, but of- I don't know I can't place my finger on it. It's almost like guilt."

"Xena, you've been my chosen warrior for many winters now. This is just a phase."

~**~**~**~**~

"Stay Xena.. You feel it. That anger, that lust for power- don't deny it. It's a part of you. I am a part of you."

"I do feel them. For ten years I've felt them!"

"Ten years? These are the only things I've known for eons, Xena. Don't fight it-Greece is nearly yours."

"And that's why I must stop before I lose what's left of my-"

"Mortal heart?"

"Yes."

"You don't need it."

I need it more than you know, Ares...just let me walk away.

~**~**~**~**~

There were many times he had listened, undetected, as Hercules attempted to thwart his plans.

"Xena-- she's on the loose again, Herc."

"It's not Xena we have to worry about, Iolaus. Our real problem is with a warrior named Darphus. He's slaughtering everyone in sight for the greater good of Ares."

~**~**~**~**~

" Listen sir, if Darphus' name doesn't scare you, maybe Ares' will."

"Ares? There's not one man in this camp that hasn't paid tribute to him by fighting in a war somewhere along the line, Hercules. He bears us no ill will."

~**~**~**~**~

Ares remembered....reminiscing...

"This is the site of one of my greatest triumphs-- the battle of Torrence. Ten-thousand corpses littered the battleground. The stench was invigorating."

"So, who was the great general responsible for this... aroma?"

"No general Strife. It was a warrior-- Xena. She led her army through opponents' infantry like flies. Limbs were scattered everywhere. It... was... beautiful."

"You miss her, don't you? It's a shame she decided to change sides."

"I wouldn't give up on her just yet. Death's perfume can be very-- addictive. Let's just see how my game plan unfolds."

~**~**~**~**~

Then, the time came when memories of her were no longer enough.

"What do you want?"

"I want you back, of course. My warrior princess living as my warrior queen. We were once a great match."

"I didn't know any better then. I thought your ways were all there was for me."

"Now that you do know there is another side to life-- now tell me--are you really having more fun these days?"

"I'm fighting for a better world."

"My dear Xena, you were always fighting for a better world. You were going to conquer it-- and then-- you were going to rule it... the perfect way to bring order-- out of chaos. And you were doing very, very well."

~**~**~**~**~

"Your destiny is to rule the world with me. Fulfill your destiny. And fill me again with the delicious sight of you-- the warmth-- the strength of you. What do you see?"

"Warriors-- thousands of them."

"All of them yours. Trained, ready... willing to die if you command it. With an army like that, you could mold the world anew-- eradicate injustice. You can't tell me that all this holds no attraction-- even maybe a slight fascination?"

"What's in it for you?"

"The world at peace under a great leader-- you"

~**~**~**~**~

"It burns inside you. I burn inside you. You can feel me there-- like a fever. Xena will never be answerable to these pathetic creatures- not the Xena whose army scorched the earth at will. You are remembering it now... the unfettered freedom of it. You're Xena-- unstoppable--unbeatable.

~**~**~**~**~

"I heard what you said to your mother. And you were right of course-- what you said about life."

"I was ranting."

"Like a prophet. Xena, you were never so close to the truth."

"If you're trying to convince me that life's worth living, this is not a good strategy."

"No-- life isn't worth living. It's to be taken, and beaten, and wrestled, and formed in your image. That's where the meaning lies-- in what you can twist life into. For those who just endure life, yeah-- it is a very nasty joke. But, for those who form it with their will, the joke is on those who get in the way."

~**~**~**~**~

The dirge echoed through him as he remembered how completely alone and betrayed he felt when Hera had finally learned to forgive and he still remained the same- what she had  taught him to be.

"Because everything I ever learned-- about hate-- and greed-- and envy and spite, I learned from Hera!"

~**~**~**~**~

No, he hadn't changed. Not yet...

"Oh, yeah. It's all about you and me, Xena-- not Kal, not even Zeus. Just the two of us-- bringing peace-- and order to the world-- through force-- something you and I were destined to do-- together."

~**~**~**~**~

Then,  Ares' world was turned on its axis.

"The fates spoke of a time when mankind would no longer need Olympians-- and they would lose their power."

"I warn you, Xena. Get in way this time-- you leave me no choice."

~**~**~**~**~

"Then perhaps, under all that rage, there's a little compassion after all."

"I wouldn't confuse caution with compassion if I were you."

"The only thing these people are being led to is the truth."

"The truth is-- I decide whether you live-- or die. Since the beginning of time-- it's been warriors who have shaped the world!"

~**~**~**~**~

"Oh, you are a real piece of work. You know that? You want me to keep Hercules busy so you don't have to kill him. Meantime, you intend to murder a woman I'm rather fond of."

"So fond of her as to bring about your own death? That's exactly what will happen if this child is born."

"No-- no deal. That is, unless, of course-- you're willing to offer me something in return."

"Such as?"

"You have always kept a watchful eye over Hercules. Well, now I'm asking you to turn the other way while I do what I have to do to stop him."

"You're asking for my permission to kill my own son?!"

"What is it about him you have never seen in me?!"

"It's not just you. He has managed to do something that we have tried and failed to accomplish... He has earned humanity's love in every gesture-- except fear."

"And Xena has earned mine. So, I guess we both have something to lose. Well, Dad-- what's it going be?"

~**~**~**~**~

"Xena, I wanna protect your unborn child from the others."

"Why would you wanna do that?"

"Well, I've had a falling out with Dad, and as you know, I've always had a thing for you."

"Look-- your stalking me is not helping the trust factor any."

"This is not your standard obsession. OK? I'm having urges that I'm not real proud of."

"You expect me to believe you'd protect a child the fates say will destroy you?"

"They say it'll destroy all the Olympians. Now, if I'm going to be mortal-- I-- could live out my life-- with you."

"What are you talking about?!"

"I have feelings for you. I care about you. I see your face everywhere!"

"Stop it! You, stop it! You're so desperate-- you're trying to convince me that you love me? Well, go on. Say it. Say it. Say you love me."

"..."

"The time for you and me has been and gone."

"It was worth a shot anyway. I thought in your present condition you might be a little more gullible."

"I am pregnant, not brain-damaged."

~**~**~**~**~

"I am here to help you."

"That's what you said last time in Tartarus, when you tried to convince me that you love me."

"I do."

"Uh."

"Ooh, I love it when you play hard to get-- but that's why I'm here-- to prove it to you."

"Then you're wasting my time. I'd never swallow that."

"Thanks to that kid of yours, I am dying. So, why would I lie?"

"Because you're Ares. You always lie."

"Well, not anymore. All I want is to end my life the way it really started-- fighting side by side with you."

"You forget, I fight *against* scum like you."

"Then, so will I. A fight is a fight-- no matter which side you're on."

~**~**~**~**~

"You're wrong. I'm more than willing to fight beside you-- be a father to Eve-- and to a child-- of our own."

"That's your game. Now that you feel you're checking out, you want a child to carry on your line."

"I know it's not real immortality, but it's better than nothing. Besides, mortals do it all the time. Why not me?"

"Because you're a conniving bastard! That's why not you."

"Only because you never believe me when I'm trying to be sincere."

"Sincere?"

"I'm trying, OK? Everyone on Mount Olympus is targeting you. Even now, three armies are closing in. Now, all I'm asking is your word we will be together, and have a child-- and I'll make all this go away. I swear."

~**~**~**~**~

"Why are you here, brother?

"My survival is at stake, too. The child must die."

"Oh! Really? Rumor has it that you made Xena an offer to spare the child-- if she gave you one of your own. And rumor has it-- that she turned you down. This isn't one of your little games to try and make Xena your plaything. Zeus is dead, Ares. The prophecy is coming true, and Xena's child is the key."

"And why not attack now?"

"The people of Amphipolis are loyal to me. Give them time--and they'll deliver up the child-- without the need of force."

"Perhaps, but where's the fun in that?"

~**~**~**~**~

"You fight beside me and we can defeat Athena."

"Maybe we can. Of course, if I side with you against my sister-- then I become a pariah on Olympus. So, by helping you--my own fate is sealed. Oh, I'm still interested. I just want to know-- what's in it for me?"

"What's in if for you? Me. You help me defeat Athena-- and I'm yours."

"You're mine."

"For years, you've been wanting me to be your Warrior Queen. Well-- I'm offering you my sword-- and the body that wields it.

"That's very tempting. But what about Olympus?"

"Olympus is doomed. Zeus is dead. And whatever happens here, their reign is over. Look-- you want immortality? A child is immortality-- a legacy-- a lineage. You help me save my daughter and you will be her father. Through her, we can live forever."

"Xena-"

"I'm offering you everything you ever wanted. Take it."

"No. No, you don't."

"What?"

"You're up to something. I have desired you from the very first time I saw you in battle. And now? After all these years, after all these games-- the cat and the mouse-- will I, won't I--`Ares, I'm yours. Take me.' Well, I'm sorry, it's too easy."

"I am offering you a deal. And I don't go back on my promises."

"No. No, you don't. But, you always come up with some way to mess with my head."

~**~**~**~**~

"Have you considered that maybe this prophecy is fulfilling itself?! Think about it. What can Xena's baby do to us? Really? Yet the more we fight amongst ourselves about the future of this one tiny child, the more vulnerable we become."

"Because of this one tiny child, Zeus is already dead!

"If he'd let well enough alone, Hercules wouldn't 'a killed him."

"And what if you're wrong, Ares? Is it worth the risk for one child? Or for one woman?

~**~**~**~**~

"Not so fast, Sis."

"Ares, get out of my way!"

"You know what they say? Blood is thicker than water--but blood runs hardest when love is involved."

~**~**~**~**~

"Wh-- why do you continue-- to deny us? We had a deal. When we were fighting side by side, it was like we were one. Back there-- can you tell me you didn't feel anything?"

"I felt nothing."

"This isn't finished. As long as your child lives, they'll keep coming-- and then you're gonna have to come to me for help."

~**~**~**~**~

"Each to his own. You to yours-- and me to mine!!!!"

"No, Xena-- don't."

"Ares-- you can't stop me this time."

"No."

"It's over. It's *over*. Join your family.

Never relenting, encompassing each thought, each word and rememberance, the sound of that somber dirge continued.

~**~**~**~**~

"You're with her now. I handled you all wrong. I know that. She knew what you needed-- unconditional-- and unselfish love-- and I couldn't give that to you. But, I appreciated you in ways she never could-- your rage-- your violence-- your beauty. When you sacrificed yourself for others, you were hers-- but when you kicked ass-- you were mine. I love you, Xena."

~**~**~**~**~

"For 25 years, I thought Xena was dead. And now she shows up, not one day older. Think about it. If Xena is still alive-- chances are that Eve is, too. And if she is then I'm a dead man."

"Because Eve is the bringer of twilight."

~**~**~**~**~

"I gotta know what happened. I thought you were dead."

"It's a nasty rumor."

"No-- no, see, I mourned you, Xena. For years, I mourned you."

~**~**~**~**~

"The moment it hit me, I knew. I don't know why I didn't see it before, but I didn't-- I swear."

"And that's supposed to make it OK?

"No-- it's supposed to make you see that it wasn't personal."

"It doesn't get more personal than when you corrupt my daughter the way you did me."

"See? That is just my point. It's not the same. Nobody's the same as you, Xena, not for me."

"Then let me take her away. Ares, the others don't need to know."

"It's not my call.. but the offer is what it's always been-- you and me together-- a child-- and I take Eve's secret with me to the grave. Otherwise--"

"You'd condemn to death a woman you claim to love?"

"No-- but I'd condemn her daughter."

~**~**~**~**~

"How does it feel, Xena... knowing the person you love--despises you-- trying to reach her, but knowing in the end--it'll either be her-- or you."

~**~**~**~**~

"She could have let that peasant kill me. She could have ended it right there. She saved my life. Why?"

"The same reason Xena didn't kill you in the arena. She wants you to buy into all the touchy-feely garbage, like love and mercy."

"She came all this way, Ares. She survived in an ice cave for 25 years to find me."

~**~**~**~**~

"You're not gonna kill me, are you?"

"Why ever not?!"

"Because I love you, Xena. Yeah-- I love you."

~**~**~**~**~

"I'm here to make you an offer. We'll make you one of us."

"What about Eve and Gabrielle?

"Gabrielle-- we can negotiate. But Eve-- she's our death warrant. She has to die. You know? Uh-- this is the second time that we've faced off, one-on-one-- and you still haven't been able to pull the trigger."

~**~**~**~**~

"You healed them without my blessing. That's impossible."

"I gave up my immortality to save them."

"Why?!"

"I'm sorry-- but I got a thing for her."

~**~**~**~**~

"Thank you."

~**~**~**~**~

You had it ALL, Ares! You were one with Olympus! You had all of Greece at your disposal, legions willing to raise their swords at your command! Power, luxury, comfort--all these things!! You had want for NOTHING. Ares was a name to fear!!! You had ALL this--for eternity and you gave it up for WHAT?! You gave it all up for a WOMAN! And now look at you- a mere footnote in history. You did it all for nothing, Ares. NOTHING-for after all this-all you gave up for this mortal woman, where is she now? Not with you-that is for certain. She too, probably saw this whole overture as pathetic and is now off somewhere laughing at your stupidity and how she duped you into helping her cause

~**~**~**~**~

"Perhaps this is my punishment. After years of betrayals and scheming to get whatever I wanted, the one thing I truly desired...Behold! The once mighty Ares of Olympus!!! Brought to his knees by..love...and if he could go back...he would gladly fall to them again."

~**~**~**~**~

"I sat in that jail and wondered how I would be remembered after I was gone. I never had to think about that before. But, so it is, and so it was.. Night after night, the same answer came. 'Mine is a name that will be spoken with hate... by those who haven't already forgotten it'." 

~**~**~**~**~

"Do you think you'll ever find it in your heart to forgive me?"

~**~**~**~**~

"I do forgive you."

~**~**~**~**~

"-now, witness history!!!" Menelaus had apparently finished his speech and was in the midst of pulling the sword from its scabbard.

It was then, that Xena's mournful song ebbed from Ares' mind and at the same time, the events of his life also receded. It was amazing how eons of existence could pass before his eyes in the matter of a few scant seconds. He suddenly felt so cold, colder than he had ever felt in his entire life. It painfully gripped him and everything within crumbled.

Ares ground his teeth and inwardly gasped. He felt like whatever had beat in his chest-- whatever had served as a heart, had been ripped out.

He had finally been granted Xena's forgiveness, but it was too late.

Now, the sound of cheering Spartans rose to incredible heights. Ares' eyes refocused on the crowd. They seethed in expectation.

He breathed in deeply, and awaited what was to come. The executioner made move to stand over him, and he could hear the wood planks creak with each step.

"They say everything eventually comes to pass, Ares. You are no different," Menelaus spat as he raised the sword above his head between both hands.

Ares readied himself. Tightly gripping the pillar of wood that his head rested upon, he bared down. "Get it over with then!"

"My pleasure." 

At that, the King of Sparta maliciously moved to swing down.

Part 6