Judgment (Part 7)
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 concludes Part 7 of "Judgment" by Something Royal. Part 1 is HERE.

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Meanwhile, in Sparta, things were much less dire, yet the same skills were being exercised. Although they were separated by a great distance, the similarities between Ares' lesson and Xena's actions were uncanny. In a way, he was almost narrating each move she made.

He stood with one foot planted on a stone which protruded from the ground. A hand rested on the hilt of his sword, the other gestured as he talked.

"Remember, always be prepared. Listen to the sounds around you. A footstep, a breath, the sound of water, of animals...listen to them, but focus on what's behind them."

The trees seemed to loom over her portentously. There was an extraordinary cacophony of sound. A sword skirted against her armor, the bow, slung over her shoulder, bumped against her skin, arrows rattled at her back.  War drums were beaten-- a staccato instrumental-- keeping time with the thumping of her own heart.  Leaves whispered-- a forewarning, perhaps. The forest floor rumbled beneath her. Water trickled and seeped in ruts left behind by war wagons. The sound of axels grinding against rusted joints, a cough, the ring of a sword being extricated from its scabbard...then another, and another...these things were all instruments in the orchestra. The warrioress stealthily crawled through the underbrush, causing the ground's muddied earth to rise up between her fingers.

Cassia, sporting a mid-length, blue chiton and a pair of tattered leather boots, listened intently. The tip of a sword she'd borrowed from Sparta's weapon forge was thrust into the ground, offering sturdy support as she leaned on it.

"I don't understand. Listen to the sounds behind the sounds?"

Ares twirled his own weapon. The sun's rays ricocheted off of it, causing the young woman to squint her eyes each time the light hit them.

"It's simple. Let's start with a frontal attack."

The chakram flew from her hands, ripping through the contents of stacked armory wagons. Oil seeped from damaged barrels, saturating the ground. She took a torch to them and fire snaked across the land. The samurai were alerted, her presence no longer concealed.

Cassia pulled her blade from the ground. She knocked off the dirt amassed on its tip by tapping it against one of her boots and squared herself as Ares had taught her. "Ok."

"Alright, now close your eyes," he instructed.

An explosion. Debris took to the air and fell like rain. The warrioress shielded her eyes and threw herself to the ground. A ball of fire passed over her, the heat coursing across her exposed skin. A moment of silence. Then, from the distance, came the cries of a thousand men.

"Close my eyes?" Her eyes were dotted with apprehension. "I don't know about this."

Before she could say anything more, Ares slammed his sword against hers. The impact was just hard enough to make Cassia tighten the grip on her weapon.

"You can't hesitate in a fight."

She scrambled to her feet. Her knees were caked with mud, her hair tangled with leaves. The trees--they beckoned. Hands dug into the trunk of one and clawed their way up. She could feel the bark gather under her nails, prompting her to teeth to gnash.

"What if you got sand kicked into your eyes? Are you just going to stand there and tell your assailant, 'I don't know about this'?"

"I spose not," Cassia answered reluctantly. "Good point."

"Well, I think it's safe to say that I'm more than qualified in this field," Ares grinned cockily. "Besides, after you master this technique, maybe I'll teach you how to use a bow."

 Behind a curtain of leaves, she poised herself upon a branch. The bow slid from her shoulder. She took to her arrows, pulling them against the string, playing the weapon like a lyre. One after the other, she let them fly into the enemy army below.

Cassia raised her sword an inch, using it to point at him like a finger. "I still can't get over how you caught Xena's chakram and that arrow at the same time."

Ares, once again, twirled his own blade about in his hand. He widely grinned as it spun within his palm. Sure, he wasn't exactly as conceited as he had once been, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy a nice ego reinforcement every now and then.

"That? Well, perhaps, when you're ready, I'll show you. Take in mind, it's not as easy as it looks. It takes a trained ear and quick reflexes."

Her attack was reciprocated. Whereas the cries of men had echoed across the land, arrows now screamed against the wind. They came in dizzying droves. From far away, their feathered tips would cause one to think them a flock of birds. She rolled herself flat against the tree, still perched upon one of its limbs. She waited for their cue, the sound of their imminent arrival, and when it reached her ears, she greeted them with a firm clasp of the hand. One, then two, then three... she plucked the arrows from the sky, impeding them from completing their intended journey.

"Well, that might take some work. I'm not the most agile person. My reflexes are a bit slow," she laughed, shaking her wavy hair out of her eyes. "Still want to waste your time training me? I mean, all you really agreed to do was show me how to defend myself. I didn't expect anything more...though, after hearing all of those warrior tales, I must admit, I'd like to learn as much as I can."

Ares' sword arm lowered as he scanned the field around them. It was perfect for drills. The ground had level areas, as well as spots of jutted earth. Surrounding the area were trees--a plethora of them. The grass, for the most part, was lush. That would make anticipating an opponent's move all the more difficult, due to their feet being concealed. This was good, though. The more complicated the lesson, the faster the pupil would learn. He decided that if she wanted to seriously train, and since there was an appropriate place to do so, he would oblige her. 

"Cassia, I'll train you, but you must take this earnestly. If you don't, you could get hurt," he warned, leaning on his sword.

"I know. I'm still bruised from landing on my posterior last week."

Ares laughed. He had dropped kicked her during that session, and sent her flying backward. "Remember, listening to the sounds around you. Understanding them for what they are is the key to sharpening your reflexes."

Another dark cloud of arrows took to the sky.

Cassia kept her sword level. Although Ares was reclined, she knew he would take the opportunity to teach her some sort of lesson if her guard was dropped. She wasn't about to allow any such opening.

"And if I can do that, you'll teach me-"

"Yup. Take in mind, I'm only doing this so you know how to put these skills to good use. It's not going to be easy either, considering you're not really the warrior-type."

She bobbed her sword and cast Ares an angry look. "Gee, thanks," she retorted before she couldn't force herself to look pissed anymore. Her tightly drawn lips finally gave way to laughter. "No, I know I'm not. What was Xena like when you met her?"

Ares looked to the sky as images of the Warrior Princess flooded his mind. A smile tugged at his lips. In all his years, no one had ever compared to her.

"Xena was already highly skilled. Not only that, but it was apparent that, even if she hadn't been, she was a natural. But, we'll start off slow. After you grasp the reflex concept, we'll get to the bows and, eventually, how to catch arrows. That was something I showed Xena how to do. She started off by deflecting them off of a shield and then worked her way up."

Still high above the ground, she braced herself. The arrows were cutting through the currents and it was only a matter of time before they reached her. There were too many to count--too many to merely catch. She went for her chakram and held it like a shield. One by one, the arrows came. Each met the disc's steeled surface, ricocheted off of it and, in some instances, flew back to where they'd came--to the very men who had been their catalyst.

Cassia, noting that Ares seemed quite taken by memories, used the opportunity volley her sword between her hands so as to wipe the perspiration off of them using her chiton. She watched him learily all the while and, satisfied her hands were once again dry, re-squared herself. Again, she knew he was liable to strike at any time.

"So, did Xena ever miss?"

Ares heard the sound of rustling leaves coming from the trees lining the field. He turned his attention to their direction and watched a flock of birds take flight. Their delicate wings propelled them to great heights before they disappeared behind Sparta's city in the distance.

One of his eyebrows slightly rose, realizing that he had been asked something, but was completely clueless as to what it was.

"Sorry, what did you say, Cassia?"

The young woman smirked. "I asked you if Xena ever missed with the arrows."

"Only once."

Her arm was tiring and for one brief second, she let it drop an inch. An arrow nicked the chakram, and continued its course, landing in her shoulder. She jerked back against the tree, wincing as she tore it from her skin. Gripping the arrow in her fist, she ground her teeth and huffed out before throwing it to the forest floor, infuriated. 

"Now you've asked for it," she seethed as she pulled her sword from its scabbard and flipped from the limb to the slickened ground below.

"She had let her temper get in the way. That dulls the senses, " Ares related, now squaring himself up and raising his sword. "You must always remain focused," he continued, staring at the blade, taking in the reflection of his dark eyes.

Wagon wheels--they were ready to collapse--their axels were broken, but the cart itself was serving a more pertinent purpose--as a shield. Arrow after arrow bore into the greyed wood. Knowing she couldn't stay behind it forever, the warrior stepped from behind the cart, sword drawn. Chin leveled down, her glacial eyes were up, and the wind swept locks of ebony hair against her face. She looked like she could take on the entire army herself and-- at least, for a moment, she thought she could.

"Always remain focused," Cassia repeated and as she did so, absently closed her eyes.

Ares seized the moment and suddenly swung his sword at her as if he meant to take her head. She heard the sound of the wind curl around the steel and managed to block just in time.

Her mouth dropped open in shock and she stood there stuttering. "Wha-"

The former Olympian smiled, drawing his blade back. "Well done. Always trust your instincts."

Regaining her senses, Cassia cocked her head and brought her sword level again. "Not fair."

"War isn't always fair, whether it's an army you're up against, or just one other person," Ares explained, stalking around her.

She volleyed her sword back and forth, deflecting another attack of arrows. Her teeth were bared, looking more like a panther snarling in the midst of the hunt, rather than a woman poorly outnumbered. Part of her wanted to run-- there was no doubt-- but she kept reminding herself of why she didn't. It was all about redemption. So, she continued on... fighting for the freedom of the Japa people... and for herself as well.

Another arrow flew by, grazing her arm. She felt the sting and briefly turned her head. That one look was enough to break her concentration. Yet another arrow struck her, this time, in the stomach. She doubled over and gasped. It was the first time she had ever been wounded in such a way. This was something that no amount of bandaging would fix, and as a second arrow struck her just above the first, she knew that this adventure would be her last.

Inside, she mourned...

lost time...

missed opportunities...

things unspoken...

...another sunrise.

"Are you ok," Cassia asked, looking at him curiously. He had been in the midst of continuing the lesson when he had suddenly doubled over. "What's wrong?"

Ares' eyes snapped up and he shook his head as he lazily rubbed his abdomen. "I'm fine... I just--" he trailed off at a loss. "Felt like I was kicked in the gut."

"Do you want to call it a day?"

A fire burned in her belly and, for a brief moment, she considered dropping her sword right there and then. Yet, the greatest pain she felt was not due to the injuries.  Grief began to take over, holding her heart steadfast, threatening to quiet her resolve to finish the mission.

But, as her eyes began to grow weighted, a new sensation begin to take hold--

Defeat was unacceptable. Her muscles, her lungs, her heart, they throbbed with adrenaline. She would fight till the bitter end for days not yet come would no longer be mourned---they would be avenged.

"Ares? Did you hear me?"

"What," he asked, refocusing his attention on Cassia.

Her brow wrinkled as she took a step toward him, scrutinizing the way he stood there so stiffly. "Do you want to call it a day?"

Ares shook his head and dismissed that notion with a wave of the hand. "No, no, I'm fine. It's gone now...whatever it was." He squared his shoulders and rolled them back, loosening the muscles of his back. "Alright, you did well earlier. Now, try to follow the movement of my sword and stop any move I make to attack."

"But-"

"Don't worry, I'll go slow."

Ares abruptly charged her. Their swords met and resonated. He made sure to let her see each incoming move and, while he did so, a peculiar feeling started to brew. Each time he brought his sword down on Cassia's, the subsequent clang was disjointed. He almost felt like his body and mind were working autonomously because, while he swung and parried, his mind's eye reeled with shadowed images and muffled sounds.

She charged and a group of samurai surrounded her instantaneously. Their faces were all a blur to her--so were their movements. Regardless, there was always the sound. Each man made an effort to cut her down, but she swung wildly at any who dared to make a noise--any who dared to breathe. Like a cornered animal, her eyes wide with rage, she fought them.

Part of him considered that he was remembering some old battle in the back of his mind while he fought the girl. It was almost as if he was in one place, but his subconscious was somewhere else. Cassia, on the other hand, did not seem to notice the blank expression on her instructor’s face as he continued the tutorial attack.

"So, how am I doing," she asked, bringing her sword to meet his.

"Wha-" Ares blinked and halted his arm mid-swing.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

He bit his lip and lowered the sword. "I'm...fine." Rubbing the side of his face with his free hand, he tried to focus. "You were doing good. Now, lets try the move from before, only this time, you're going to close your eyes on your own and not know which direction I'm coming from. What I want you to be able to get out of this is a sense of placement."

Cassia planted her feet firmly beneath her, taking up battle stance again, and closed her eyes. "Alright, but go easy on me."

"Oh, and," he started, taking a step back from her.

She let one eye peek open. "And?"

"This time, when you make your counter, I want you to attack-- not block."

Now, both snapped open. "But, what if I--"  Her words trailed off for she noted that Ares was looking at her as though she was being absurd.

"Cassia...C'mon, get real. Remember who you're talking to."

She gulped, unbeknownst to her tutor. "Well, if I do hurt you-"

"You're not going to, but if you do I won't get mad at you," he assured her before tapping the tip of  her sword up with his own. "You can't keep letting your sword drop--not even an inch. Now, c'mon and do what I told you."

She warily closed her eyes once more and settled into place. Her feet were about a foot apart, as he had shown her, her sword raised and at the ready. Ares stood a few steps away, silently debating which angle to come in from.

There was always the back, but she would most likely anticipate that just because it would be the logical choice...then again, perhaps Cassia was expecting him to do something more complicated. Reverse psychology could produce interesting results.  

Ares shrugged. It would do. A grin grew wide upon his face as he stalked around her, intermittently whistling between steps. With each lap, he drew in closer and was impressed that Cassia didn't simply start swinging at any direction. She did nothing but wait like a trap waiting to be sprung and that was what he was looking for. Focus and temperance were key.

Finally, he stopped behind her, his sword held firmly between his hands, poised to strike.

Man after man raced up on her. All control was lost. All she could do now was continue to swing her sword at any moving thing, spinning with each disorienting sound of footfall. Her breath was drawing tight and her eyes were glazing over. She blinked repeatedly, hoping to clear her sight. It didn't accomplish that feat.

For the first time ever, she found her sword growing too heavy for her. With each swing, her arms ached...hands burned. But, even though her body was weakening, her insides suddenly swelled, for when she looked to the dark peak of Mt. Fujisan, she saw the burning lights of a thousand lit arrows-- The second contingent was ready to wage war.

Her sword slowly slid from her grasp and as it fell upon the ground-- time seemed to stop

Her job was done. She had successfully managed to lure the enemy army into her trap and, though they didn't know it yet, their time was nearly at hand. Then again, so was hers.

Though this was the way of it, she didn't ruminate on the sullen truth. Instead, she felt comfort in knowing that the innocents of Edo would be safe.  Would they know the part she had played in ensuring their safety? There was no way to tell, but in her heart she knew she had made amends.

Xena smiled then. Her teeth were beautifully bared against the black locks that clung to her muddied face. Despite her wounds, she was still as stunning as ever. She was a warrior who had reached the end of that infamous gauntlet, but did so without defeat. Now, the floodgates of her mind reopened to the memories that told the story of her life--a story about war, love and redemption...

She reached for the chakram at her side and, just as she had done earlier, brought it to her lips.

That's when time no longer seemed to stand still....

The Warrior Princess' head lulled back as the finality of the situation finally set in. Her legs began to numb and she rocked back on her heels. Trying to balance herself, she ended up spinning around, but that smile never waned.

Xena's reddened eyes opened just in time to see the gleaming edge of a  sword come at her neck, but... too late to stop it.

Ares' dark eyes suddenly widened in inexplicable horror as his knees buckled. A pain, unlike any other he had ever felt, tore through his heart. The grip on his sword loosened and it dropped to the ground as he lurched forward, desperately clawing for something to stop his own descent.

With Cassia in front of him, all he could do was reach for her. A hand crashed down on her shoulder and, thinking this was her cue, she thrust her weapon backward. What she felt sent a chill to the very core.

Her hands shakily still on the hilt, Cassia turned around to take in the numbing sight that she knew awaited her. Ares collapsed to his knees, his eyes looking past her own. He curiously stared at the sky-- for what seemed forever-- before his head finally wobbled down. It was then that the former Olympian saw the sword lodged in his chest. He weakly placed two hands around the weapon and, much to the surprise of the young woman standing by, pulled it out.

Ares' mouth flooded with a salty bitterness almost instantly and he clumsily fell backwards.

Cassia screamed at the top of her lungs. Tears welled and spilled down her face as her head shook desperately from side to side.

"NO! No," she yelled, feeling her heart twist. She dropped to the ground and put a shaking hand on Ares' chest, willing the nightmarish scene to stop. He simply writhed on the ground, rocking his head back and forth while his dark eyes fluttered. "No!!"

Her body wracked as each sob beat its way through her chest. "Don't die," she demanded. "Don't die!"

She had to get help. That was all she could think to do. Cassia tried to see past the tears that clouded her sight, looking around her like a lost child. That's when her eyes fell upon Sparta in the distance.

She immediately pulled up the length of her chiton and sprinted toward the palace as fast as she could, screaming wildly for help.

Alone, sprawled upon the warm grass of the field, Ares continued to writhe. "Xena," he whispered through trembling lips.

She wasn't there--she was gone and, though he couldn't explain it, he knew-- he had felt it.

Ares' leg slid up and down, as if he were trying to get to his feet. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't do it. He curled his fingers through the grass and coughed, causing the pain to grow all the more intense. Burrowing his fingers into the dirt, he gnashed his teeth as a spasm coursed through his body.

That's when she came.

A light grew beside him. An explosion of color, a shatter of sparkles, and there in the wake of it was Aphrodite. Her face was stained with tears and she somberly looked down at her brother, the former personification of war, as he jerked and convulsed on the ground.

"Si-sis," he stuttered, still rolling his head back and forth.

She gasped, swallowing back the sobs that dared to spill from her lips. The soft chiffon of her gown billowed gracefully as she fell to her knees beside him. Aphrodite's eyes continued to brim over as she put her hands under his arms and brought him up to lay in her lap.

"Ares," she breathed, willing the pain in her chest to flee.

"Xe-Xena...is d-dead," he tried to say, as she gripped him tightly.

Her face scrunched up as another current of tears rolled out from between her lashes and dripped down onto her brother's face. Sullenly, Aphrodite drew her fingertips along his cool skin, wiping them away.

"Xena's gone," she confirmed, sniffing back, "and you will be too if you don't take this."

She put her hand in front of his face and there, in another shatter of light, sat the bottle of ambrosia she had offered months ago, the same day--the last day-- he saw Xena. Ares' eyes flickered as he swallowed back and shook his head.

"No," he uttered through a cough, using what was left of his strength to push Aphrodite's hand away. "No." He coughed again. It felt like his lungs were tearing. 

"You must," she pleaded, forcing him to look at it. "This is your only chance, brother!"

"I'll see her..see..her..on the..ot-other side," he ground out, the muscle of his jaw flickering wildly.

Aphrodite's eyes closed. Seeing her brother like this was breaking her heart, and what she had to tell him next would shatter what was left of his.

"No," she started, another onslaught of tears rolling down her reddened face, "you won't. She's not in our-"

Ares' face twisted in indescribable anguish for he knew what she wouldn't say. He began to writhe again, clawing at the ground beneath them. A moan, from deep within, came out to carry on the wind, and Aphrodite feared that it would be the last thing to ever cross his lips. If anyone ever wondered what a shattering heart sounded like, this would be their answer.

She clasped him tighter in her arms, this man who had once been war, rocking him like a child as that gut-wrenching cry filtered through the strata.

"Ares," she cried again, burying her wet face in his hair. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Yes, Aphrodite was truly sorry....

For turning her back on him when he needed her most...

For what he had just lost...

For the pain he was going through...

...and for what she was about to do.

She gripped him closer as he convulsed in her arms uncontrollably, trying to steady him--trying to steady herself. Taking a breath to strengthen her resolve, Aphrodite's face hardened and her comforting embrace turned to one of restraint. Her heart lurched as he struggled against the confinements of her arms, but her mind was made up. 

She flicked the cap off the bottle which still sat in her hand and, again, whispered, "I'm so sorry," before diffusing the bitter taste in Ares' mouth with one of sweetened nectar.

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Embers, cracked and ashen, quietly hissed as the heat they'd clung to for a night's duration fled in somber abandonment. What was left? Nothing but flimsy particles, easily swept away by the guiding hand of the wind. They were mere remnants, a hollow left-over of the, seemingly, impervious wood they were bore of.

Sitting a few feet from the fire's waste, Gabrielle ruminated. Eyes the color of gems found nestled in the hillsides of Eire, stared on loomingly. Just as the soot, the fire within was gone. Dark circles encompassed them and lines of regret left tracks leading to a mussed hair-line, laden with oil.

A hand sat perched within the unkept locks, fingers threaded through, clenching and releasing like a spasm. In the other hand, a finely crafted piece of pottery sat. The bard's eyes reluctantly looked to the item as she disheartenedly laughed.

"If I were to drop this, what's left of her would be no different from the molded wood of last night."

The angst-ridden snickering subsided, giving way to a heart-breaking groan. This was accompanied by the telling shakes of weary shoulders. Her fingers constricted upon the jar in her hand, while her head flew back in anguish.

"Why couldn't you stay..why..," she ground out between clenched teeth, her jugular straining against her throat.

Her eyes opened as if it weren't of her own volition. She stared up at the sky. Hues of pink and blue mingled and danced with those of silver and orange; a colliding fusion of colors, transcending the formally ebony night.

Gabrielle swallowed back, running a hand beneath her reddened nose. Dawn was approaching. Time hadn't stopped. The world would go on...but could she?

An answer was not forthcoming.

She'd run into a stone wall. After years of following in the Warrior Princess' footsteps, the bard found herself too small of foot to fit the tracks left by her mentor. It was a bittersweet revelation; one that prompted both regret, as well as joy. She didn't necessarily want to continue down the path she'd endured, yet she felt as though there were still loose ends to tie-up..a mission not yet completed.

The bard's nose stung as impending tears began to tease her eyes. She inhaled, attempting to lessen the pressure, and set the small urn down on the fur blanket that she sat on. Blink after blink, her head slowly turned, scanning her rather poorly established campsite. The fire had long since fizzled out, her satchel lay on its tattered side by her feet, while a horse lazily indulged itself on the weedy roots beyond.

A tentative hand lowered as her trembling fingers weaved their way round the handle of her bag. Slowly, they burrowed their way down into the item. She must have touched upon whatever it was she was looking for, because her face contorted, while the lump in her throat bobbed curiously.

Just as the crest of the sun rose above the distant hill-side, the top arc of Xena's chakram peered out from within the satchel. The weapon caught the warming rays of the morn, casting beams this way and that. Gabrielle sniffed back, bringing the item mere inches away from her face. The corners of her mouth twitched--an all too brief attempt at a smile in remembering her confidant. She looked upon the weapon with much regret exuded from her swollen eyes.

 "Why did you leave."

She got up, all the while staring at the menacing item gripped firmly in hand. Her chest grew as she drew in a breath, never ceasing to look upon the disc. Taking a shaky step forward, her arm curled up to her neck. Another breath she took, tightening her fingers against the steel. A wary look dotted her eyes. She attempted to throw it.

It fell flat from her release a few feet away, only reaffirming that she was truly not meant to wield it. Gabrielle lowered her head and sullenly trotted toward where it had fallen. She proceeded to pick it back up.

Just as she was about to stand tall again, she heard the sound of creaking axles. She peered across the line of trees and saw a wagon, laden with wares, making its way down the path. A large draft horse plodded along, pulling the weighted cart behind it. The bard noted that the driver was dressed in common Spartan attire, while the other seated next to him appeared to be of a different citizenship. Either way, Gabrielle felt the urge to conceal herself and quickly crouched behind the nearby bushes, ceasing to make a single noise as she eaves-dropped on their conversation.

"Both Dmitri and Jocasta were-"

"Yes. Pylos is lost. Seems as though Sparta lucked out. We didn't know of the army until they attacked."

"Well, Queen Taris received word from a special source that Sparta was in danger."

"Was it her informant that told you all to evacuate to Pompeii?"

"Yes, it was. She, along with the council and most of the city's people, left over a month ago. "

"I see. Well, I gotta thank you again for offering to take me with you to Athens. My daughter is there. I fear for her safety."

"No problem. As I told you earlier, I'm heading up there anyway to drop off these goods. It's a shame so many were lost."

The bard was idle as their words trailed off. When she had arrived at the port yesterday, she barely had the energy to look at anyone around her, but now she seemed to recall the disorienting goings-on there. She could scarcely believe she hadn't realized the state of worry.  From what she could gather from the conversation she had just listened in on, something terrible had happened in Greece while she was away.

What that was, she hadn't a clue and as she finally steadied herself to stand, she noted that the men were gone. Realizing she couldn't ask them for further information, Gabrielle silently scolded herself for standing silent when the opportunity had been there to do so. Xena wouldn't have been so lax.

The bard lifted the chakram and gazed at it in frustration. Her lips twisted as her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She curled her arm back again and she launched it as far as she could. A guttural scream poured from her lips and her muscles strained within, causing heart and gut to collide.

The chakram clumsily flew through the air. She could have just as gracefully thrown her boot. It landed roughly in the dirt below, riding on its edge before trailing in a circle, to then only topple over.

She bit her lip, hard, and turned around, shuddering with loss. Trembling fingers rose to her brow, pushing stray hairs from out of her eyes. Gradually, they trailed down her face to wipe away a trail of salty tears.

"It wasn't meant for  you," a masculine voice drawled out as if slurred by stupor.

Gabrielle spun on her heel, finding a brooding, sullen countenance facing her. "Ares," she acknowledged, shaking in trepidation. "You're-"

"Like I was. To make a long story short, turns out, Aphrodite's still around."

If he hadn't told her himself, she would've never suspected that he had been returned to his former status. There before her, shoulders rolled up, head drawn down and a look of despondent anguish upon his face, he stood. The look in his dark eyes was enough to cause the hairs on the back of her neck to stand at attention.

"So you know." Gabrielle stuttered out hastily, slowly motioning to the chakram laying wastefully in the grass beyond. All the while, she scrambled to find composure. She couldn't reconcile that this was Ares, not after all that had happened in Sparta.

He ruefully laughed. The sound was frighteningly cold and again, she found herself being fearful. He staggered with each wave of laughter, clutching the hilt of his sword with one hand. It was as if he were inebriated, although Gabrielle knew that wasn't possible. He was completely menacing in this state, the whites of his eyes waxing like steel in the dawn's light.

 "Of course I know. You always did underestimate the bond between her and I--didn't you," he spat.  He looked upon the fallen weapon, sneering with a growing distaste for the bard just steps away.  The anger within him brewed. "And now, you toss the symbol if it around like garbage."

Gabrielle was taken aback. Quickly, she stammered, attempting to deter Ares from what he was insinuating. "I was just trying to-"

"To be like her? Remember her? Well, clue for you... she's gone, and there's nothing you, nor I can do about it." He ran fingers through his hair and stalking the bard as if intent on dispatching her. "All that's left is the pain, but I'm going to put a stop to it," he stated, wavering at the finality of what he conveyed.

Gabrielle was at a loss. Had he gone mad? Surely, that wasn't possible. "What? What are you-"

"That's right, you just got back last night. Of course you wouldn't know yet." Ares' lips rose patronizingly as he stopped and stood in place.

"Know what?"

The whites of his eyes rolled back as downy, black lashes lowered. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and his bottom lip dropped open in response to steel singing out against the leather. The corners of his mouth twitched again and Gabrielle realized he was indeed drunk-- intoxicated on war--the igniting rage of it.

Between two hands, Ares began to level the weapon back and forth in the air, as though  locked in combat with an invisible opponent. A maniacal smile tugged at his face as he continued to dance with his own shadow. "All armies are on the march. Cities are burning. People are breaking the threat of pillaging warriors. Riots....everywhere."

She felt herself grow sick from hearing these words. He spoke them with such pleasure, reverie; he enjoyed it. Before Gabrielle had time to register the growing nausea in the pit of her stomach, she jumped back, startled, as Ares launched his sword from his hands. It flew through the air, screaming against the currents, before embedding itself in a nearby tree. Peels of bark leapt from the trunk. The bard forced herself to look back at him.

Ares stood there, seething still. The rise and fall of his chest was rampant. His hands now sat upon his head, fingers threaded like clamps through his ebony hair. Slowly, the cat-like grin upon his face begin to dissipate, leaving a twisted sneer in its wake. "The screams are unbearable..they echo endlessly in my mind...there's never any silence...peace. It's complete unrest, and if it continues..."

Gabrielle, attempting to digest what was happening, took a step forward. Her hands ran up her arms, trying to calm the fear that she felt brewing. She couldn't let him see her flinch. Again, she swallowed back, feeling her throat begrudgingly constrict. 

"If it continues? Don't reduce Xena's memory to this! She'd fight against it, you know that...so why-"

"Because I can't stop it!! The wars are feeding off my emotions," he snarled back. It was then his face contorted in the most unusual way. It was as if he was desperately trying to rein in an unleashed rage. He white-knuckled, gritting his teeth all the while.

"I know what has to be done."

Gabrielle was completely puzzled. “What are you talking about?"

Ares had now grown endlessly tired of the bard's questions. He strode toward her, causing  her eyes to close with fear as he yelled, "Don't you get it??! My grief..the pain.. my MOOD is causing the destruction. This land will be nothing but a scorched memory if it continues" He stepped back and Gabrielle opened her eyes. They set their sights upon Ares, who now paced in front of her, ranting like a mad-man. "There's only one way to stop it. One way--to forget it. Forget the anguish. Forget the loss. Forget her... and that's just what I'm planning to do once I leave here."

She gazed on incredulously. "And you could do that?" Gabrielle shook her head. "If you do--if you forget everything you learned from her, I shudder to think what would be left."

Ares stopped and stood in place. "Someone who doesn't know the meaning of love, or compassion--that's what. And that's also something that I intend on rectifying."

Dark eyes scanned the campsite before falling to look upon a small piece of pottery sitting on a nearby blanket. He quickly brought a hand to his eyes and rubbed as though they itched. That wasn't the case, but he wasn't about to allow her to know that what caused them to sting. 

"Funny, there was a time that just forgetting her woulda been enough.. but all that's changed now. I can't allow myself to revert back to how I was before loving her."

"I don't understand."

"You never did."

She shook her head. "You got over losing Xena before. You can do it again."

He scoffed. Surely she couldn't be serious. "I mourned her for over two decades, Gabrielle. You weren't around to see the type of destruction that happened during that time...but, it is nothing like what is happening now." 

"What do you mean?"

Ares' hands balled into fists. How had Xena put up with her? The questions fell down one after the other like the rolling waters of the Aegean, but he relented with a sigh.

"I changed during my time here as one of you." He closed his eyes, attempting to remember better days as he continued,  "I'm mourning her... and it's resulting in complete destruction of," the deep even beat of Ares' voice trailed off as the dark plumes of lashes rose, giving way to reddened eyes.  "Years to you, are as spans of minutes to me..."

He swallowed, feeling the hollow pain in the back of his throat bob up and down. Turning around, he crossed his arms and quietly went on, "however, my heart beats at a mortal pace. So, how long would it take to get over the loss this time? A few decades? A century? Never?  I don't think these people can wait that long." Again, his head drew downward, and with slow, deliberate steps he bent over to pick up the gleaming chakram from the foliage below. "Good-bye, Gabrielle."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She couldn't make heads or tails of it, but as she saw the blue light of the aether begin to glimmer into sight, she lunged forward. Surprising even herself, she found her hands flying to grip him about the arms to hold him in place. "Wait! She wanted me to give this to you."

"What?"

Gabrielle let go and quickly retrieved her satchel. "On the way to Japa, Xena told me that if anything should happen to her, I was to make sure you got this." The bard sniffed back, feeling her nose begin to run. She dug around in her pack and pulled out the small, black pouch. She started toward him again and extended her hand.

"Take it."

He opened his own and cocked his head. "What is this?"

"She wouldn't say, and I promised not to open it."

One of the pouch's straps hung over her thumb and the item dangled mere inches from Ares' palm. Gabrielle was taking her time in relinquishing it, so he ripped it away, causing the small thread to snap. Ares looked at the pouch hesitantly, rolling the soft velvet between his fingers, before storing it beneath his tunic.

Without a word, he squared himself, preparing to leave. A blue light began to spark and, for the second time, the bard lunged at him, throwing her hands around his arm.

"Wait-maybe if there was someone for you to talk to--someone to keep an eye on you--"

Ares stared down at her. Those eyes still waxed maliciously in the early morning's light. The muscles of his jawline flickered bemusedly and he roughly shrugged her hands away. 

"Good-bye Gabrielle."

She conceded and stepped back, all the while keeping her eyes downcast upon her tattered boot leathers. From the corners of them, however, she could make out the distinct glow of the aether growing in size. She waited for it to consume him, but heard him speak out once more.

"And don't worry, Hephaestus will be keepin' watch." At that, he was gone.

Gabrielle was, once again, alone--completely. Her eyebrows furrowed, her mind reeling over the last words he'd spoken. They made no sense, but then again, he had a way of being cryptic. He and Xena were more alike than Gabrielle wanted to admit. Slowly, she paced back to the side of the burnt-out fire and sat. Her chin came down upon her cradled knees and with a sigh, she glanced down at the simple pot.

Again, her mind washed over those last words. Inside she reasoned, "But, Hephaestus is gone."

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

Within the furthest depths of the Halls of War, torches burned brightly. They sang out against the flames which purged themselves upon their oiled tips. Shadows danced and swayed, lapping at the floors and walls in undulating caresses. What light did manage to penetrate the bleak shroud, fell upon weaponry, causing swords and shields alike to glint in lightning-like pulses.

That wasn't all.

Still further into the depths of this room, ebony marble shone slick and smooth. Atop its rectangular frame sat an imposing lid, plated with silver and embossed most extravagantly. Curling steel rose and fell, depicting the countenance of a mighty warrior. A hand, ornamented with a single ring, a gift bestowed by a raven-haired princess, slowly drew its way across the metal.

Fingers curled tightly around the edge of the lid to slide it back. The marble ground out a reluctant refrain which echoed throughout the recesses. This was followed by a disheartening groan.

Ares stood there--in the dark.

Chin drawn down, eyes closed, he shuddered beneath the leather tunic clinging to his skin. He gripped at his chest as though a pain, deep and untouchable, tore through the heart. The spasm was brief. He drew his fingers down to his side and wrapped them around the sharpened edge of Xena's chakram.

He brought the item to his face, examining the way it glinted against the flame of a torch. Ares did this... and remembered...

"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..."

Ares stared on at the chakram. He slowly dragged his fingers around the weapon. Cold. It was so dreadfully cold. Still, he let the digits glide upon the steel.

So, Gabrielle had Xena's ashes. He thought of them as nothing more than dust. The chakram was something more... so much more. It was a representation of their bond; their warrior hearts fused in steel. It had changed from its original form, but that same gift was still there... just beneath the surface.

He stopped momentarily, gazing at the ring that sheathed one of his fingers--the ring she'd placed there herself all those years before. He had thought it lost for good after Menelaus had taken it. That was the first and only time that it had ever left his hand. Though he didn't know where she'd found it, he always knew Xena was capable surprises. The fact that she had made sure it would be returned, no matter what, pained Ares all the more. He had so wanted her to be there to slip it back on.

Ares squeezed his eyes shut as a saccharine scent began to permeate the room. There was a sudden influx of light. The aether had opened.

"Sis, so nice of you to show up."

She noted the way he kept his back to her. Leaning forward on her tip-toes, she peered over his shoulder and, realizing what he was doing, stared on empathetically.

"Ar, I know what it is that you want me to do...but," she shook her head wildly, placing her hands upon her bare sides before continuing, "I can't do what you're askin'."

He finally faced her. Each marvelously beautiful line of his face drew tight as he cocked his head. "You can't? Or you won't?"

"I won't," she stated, matter-of-factly. "I need you around, Bro."

"You know what's happening out there because of me." He turned on his heel, shaking his head all the while as he pleaded, "I can't stop it. I can't control it. You must help me!"

He reluctantly faced her again and they locked stares. Ares' eyes were glossy, threatening to spill over at any moment. This was all so new to her.

Throughout the duration of their existence, Ares had often been referred to as apathetic, but she never accepted that as being true. She knew that somewhere underneath the hardened exterior, beyond the macho facade, was a heart capable of beating to something other than the drum of war.

Here was her proof of that contention, but being proved right was nothing short of bittersweet.

She'd known from the minute she'd brought her brother back to Olympus that he was forever changed.

Ares had once been perfectly suited to war and all that it entailed. Emotions were never an issue, but now... he was faltering, and horribly at that. What her brother confessed was true-- he couldn't control it-- and with each new day more wars sprung up, stemming from nothing but the pain in his heart.

Dite took her lip between her teeth and closed her eyes. "I will miss you..."

Her head slowly leveled down as she extended a hand. Bright, pink light, that of blossoms in the spring, burst. In its wake, within the palm of her hand, sat a small opaque glass bottle. Ares' nostrils gently rose as the finality of the whole situation began to take hold. He blinked away the sting in his eyes and quickly took the item before she could change her mind.

Aphrodite turned around. She couldn't bear to watch. Her brother was about to forget the one thing that she completely appreciated--love. 

Keeping her back to him, she clasped Ares' arm. Her mouth dropped open as words dared to spill. "You realize that you're about to wash away every loving memory of her?"

He pulled his arm away and stepped back toward the enormous marble sarcophagus. "I'm doing this because I love her." Ares hoisted the bottle before his eyes, tilting it this way and that, watching the Smokey liquid churn within. “Once I do this, it's only a matter of time. I'll be what I was... and that's why you can't let me get out of here."

She stared off into nothing and quietly began to weep inside. Her heart swelled with resistance. "How...how do you plan-"

"The chakram. Once it strikes the Eye, the sarcophagus will be sealed."

She looked over her shoulder at the enormous golden orb. Yes, the torches illuminated many things, but this was the most ominous. A magnificent jewel sat encrusted at the center, waiting... watching.

"I timed it all out, but just incase, you must stay here and make sure it seals. I won't be the same as I am now. I won't understand why I'm here. I'll try to escape." Ares' gaze dropped to the floor. "You can't let that happen."

Dite swallowed back, feeling her heart bottom out even more. "Do you understand what you're asking me to do?"

All that Ares could respond with was a simple, "I'm sorry."

She took a shaky breath and though she didn't want to, turned, raising her eyes to meet his. "If I can't stop you?"

"There is no 'if'. You must." 

The chakram still resting in one hand, the bottle of eraser in the other, he turned toward the orb. It seemed to be waiting for what was to come, but first, Ares had to issue a kiss good-bye. He raised Xena's infamous weapon level to his face, closed his eyes, and gently pressed his lips to it. The warm current of his breath fell silently and a small cloud of condensation gathered upon the crest.

I searched the world over for something worthy of my warrior princess.

I  will treasure it--always...

He reluctantly opened his eyes and pulled the chakram away.

"Are you ready?"

She moved to speak, but he afforded her no time to answer. Before she could utter a single word, he called out, "good," and proceeded to launch the chakram.

The kiss he'd placed upon it hadn't been just a simple purse of the mouth, for the disc emanated a deepening blue light with each rotation as it careened through the air.

Reflexes tensed for both Olympians. Dite jerked and ducked as the sound of metal clashing brutally with solid rock echoed out. He stared on at the pulsating chakram as it continued its flight throughout the hall, ricocheting back and forth against ebony stone. Moments later, it disappeared down one of two tunnels that led from the room.

Ares brought the bottle to his lips, allowing it to linger there, and was suddenly assaulted by another memory. He remembered when she had once stood much like this, her mouth poised to drink. It was a moment in time that had turned his world upside down.

Standing on the beach, the Aegean's water sweltering in the midday sun, a cart set aflame...

"You to yours, and me to mine!!!"

"No Xena....no. Don't do this-"

"You can't stop me this time, Ares."

"No..."

He blinked the crumbling memory away and, with a flick of his thumb, sent the cap flying to the floor. A sharp breath resisted against his constricted throat as he readied himself. Standing tall, feet planted firm in perfect battle stance, Ares threw his head back and brought the tip of the bottle to his lips. He could feel his own breath circumvent and caress his face. Shrouds of black lashes came down, forcing drops of reluctant tears to peer from between.

Jaw muscles tightened, then loosened as he tilted the bottle and drank. The contents, unbearably bitter, hit his tongue like a blanket of fire. It churned thickly, all the while coating the insides of his mouth. It was awash with the seering liquid and he thought he would choke as he forced himself to swallow.

Ares' grip loosened and the bottle rolled from his numbing fingertips. The smooth surface reflected the dancing torch flames as it spiraled down, causing it to look like a ball of falling fire. It dropped in a graceful descent, as if in slow motion, to the marble floor below. The glass shattered on impact, sending pieces to bounce like azure glitter.

This was nothing compared to the shattered fragments which had simultaneously burst within.

When the last bittersweet drop hit the back of his palate, Ares jerked his head forward and gasped desperately for air. As if in horrific shock, his eyes open wide, releasing tears that had been held fast. They rolled ominously down the length of his face.

He faltered forward and his left hand came clumsily down upon the edge of the sarcophagus. The right clutched his sorrowing chest, and his lamenting eyes closed once again. Ares' mouth dropped open as memories, so treasured, washed over him like a rip-tide.

"I will treasure it...always"

"You can feel me there..."

"I brought you a ring as well.."

"I used to wonder what you looked like."

"You know I had to try."

"Stay with me tonight."

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

"The cat and the mouse-- 'Will I? Won't I?"

"The games *are* over-- you've won."

They came in a whirlwind, slow at first, then more rapidly, slurring together in one giant mural of stirring memories.

"..be with you, Xena..."

"..felt something.."

"..forgive you.."

"fight's a fight, no matter what side.."

"you can't stop me.."

"..then I missed it too.."

"...with you.."

"doing one good thing..."

"..it's what you do.."

"..the most scary feeling.."

"..so sorry..."

"...like good-byes.."

"...go on, tell me..."

"good-bye"

"...you love me"

"...be alone.."

"isn't good-bye"

"..see you.."

"I love you."

"..later.."

"..there is no doubt.."

"..it's a matter of..."

"say you love.."

"redemption"

"..for you.."

"waiting"

"It's something we were destined to do...together."

A gut wrenching wail, like that of a wounded animal, broke free from his trembling lips. The howl burned at his throat as it trailed off into oblivion. It was then that the swelling pain within his chest cut short his breath. He collapsed over the side of the marble encasement, spent, both hands firmly clutching the sides.

And then, all was quiet. 

Aphrodite, mouth ajar due to a growing sense of trepidation, cautiously walked toward her brother. A mere two feet away, she brought her hands up, inwardly debating whether or not to disturb him. Her lips pressed tightly together, she slowly extended a hand, and shakily placed it upon Ares' broad shoulder.

"Bro?"

There came no reply.

She felt her mouth begin to dry. A breath lingered at the gates of it, not daring to pass through. Her lashes fluttered, attempting to blink away the apprehension which threatened to fix each muscle in place. Again, she moved to speak, gently shaking his shoulder.

"Bro?"

Once more, she was left with the same response...not a word uttered.

Dite brought her bottom lip to sit between her teeth, much like a wary child would do when faced with the unknown. Finally inhaling a breath which had, for what seemed like eternity, sat waiting to be drawn, she tightened her grip on her brother's shoulder.

"ARES," she ground out. "Say something...anything," she implored, before whispering to herself, "just let me know you're alright."

Her long-awaited reply came in the form of a shudder. Beneath the soft palm of her hand, under a layer of ebony leather and silver ornamentation, she could feel unmistakable shaking. It was faint, but it was there. Aphrodite's face fell. She tilted her head to the side, her mouth parting to speak.

"It's ok to cry."

She wasn't merely saying this to placate him either. Aphrodite's own eyes were brimming with unshed tears. Still, he shook beneath her touch, causing a bracelet clasped upon her wrist to sing out in dissonance as its finely etched bobbles struck together. It was her wedding bracelet, and as she watched her brother mourn the loss of his beloved, Dite couldn't help but remember her own... struck down by that same woman's hands.

Her eyes closed. Each note that sprung from the bracelet felt like a knife to the heart, but she had to remain strong. Again, she uttered, "It's ok to cry."

It was then that Ares finally made a sound. It was akin to that of wheezing, and it rose and fell with each jarring flinch of his rattling body. Both noise and movement grew in intensity.

Yet, as her brother shook beneath her comforting touch, the accompanying sound caused her brows to lower considerably. Her lips hung ajar as she opened her eyes. Something was not right.

She removed her hand from her brother's shoulder. This would have silenced the melancholic melody of the bracelet, however, that was not the case. While Ares' shaking body had prompted its sullen song, her own frame, now trembling, continued its morose instrumental.

Aphrodite clasped her ornamented wrist in an attempt to curtail the resonating sound coming from the bobbles. Shaking her head slowly back and forth, as if silently denying what was glaringly apparent, Aphrodite stepped backwards, never shifting her gaze from him. 

She shakily whispered, "Ares?"

At that, her mounting anxiety was validated.

The dissimulated wheezing which had brewed within his chest gave way. Aphrodite stared on as Ares' hands gripped the edge of the sarcophagus, holding himself steady while wave after wave of tumultuous laughter poured from his lips.

She incredulously shook her head, bringing her hands to her mouth. The laughter continued, disheartening to say the least. Dite's eyes began to scan the room, watching Ares' dark shadow, set off by torch flames, lap at the walls. It ran the length of room, from the floor to ceiling. This, coupled with the maddening sound of his amusement which echoed at a painful volume throughout the hall, caused Aphrodite's knees to grow weak.

The laughter slowly trailed off as Ares drew in a deep, satisfied sigh. She stared on learingly, her fingers still cuffed against her mouth. For a moment, all was silent, save for the crackling spits of the torches lining the room. Her heart sped, waiting for something to bring an end to the tension.

That something came in the form of a sound--the sound of her brother's boot tread scraping across the floor as he took one step backward, then a second. He stood tall, squaring his shoulders. With his back still to her, Ares' head cocked to the side.

"Ever get the feeling that you've misplaced something," he started, turning around. A hand was placed upon his chest, eyes were closed, and a most unruly smirk was drawn upon his lips. They playfully contorted as he continued, "but you don't know what it was that you lost?"

Aphrodite's hands slid reluctantly from her mouth while her mind raced to think of something to say. "Ar-"

"Cos, that's how I feel right now." At that very moment, with his chin nearly touching his chest and bleak shadows cast upon each contour of his face, Ares' eyes flickered open in one fluid motion.

What was revealed was enough to cause Aphrodite's hands to retreat to where they had sat just moments ago--upon her mouth, stifling a gasp. There stood Ares, glaring at her from behind the coldest eyes she'd ever seen.

They were fixed like two orbs of steel, bereft of the deep brown irises that had once sparkled with silent playfulness. Black brows loomed above, arched patronizingly, while his lips drew upward in a smile nothing short of chilling.

The bright light of the aether began to emanate around him and Aphrodite, thinking quick on her feet, did the first thing that came to mind. "Ares! No!" A power surge sparked within her hand.

He stopped and laughed. "You can't be serious."

She lowered her head, feeling a burning sensation tear at the back of her throat. Dite would not let him see her cry--not this Ares. She blinked and looked back up.

"You don't know how serious I am, bro," she replied fiercely, yet with remorse. "You asked me to do this and I'm not going to let you down."

He rolled his blank eyes and smugly responded, "Consider my mind changed."

"Funny you should put it that way, because that's the problem."

Ares was not the least bit moved. He placed a hand atop the hilt of his sword and tipped his head at her. "As amusing as this all is, I must be going."

"NO," she yelled back, but this time, he did not stop.

The aether began to consume him and Dite's hand was forced. She had to do something now. The energy still rippling within her right hand, she let it fly. It landed square on Ares' chest, sending him flying back. He landed roughly against the sarcophagus and slid to the floor.

"What the-" He stood and shook himself off. "You don't want to do this, Aphrodite," Ares snarled, menacingly walking toward her.

She extended her chin and held her ground. "You're right, I don't want to do this. But there's no other choice. You saw to that."

"You stop this nonsense, right now," he bobbed a finger at her and spat, "or you'll regret it-"

She blinked away the sting in her eyes. "I already do, brother."

He took another step toward her and this time, she didn't hesitate. Her hands went aflame, launching another assault. Ares leapt into the air, flipped, and landed directly behind her.

"You wanna play?" Cuffing his hands, two bright orbs ignited.  "Let's go." Ares let the bolts fly.

She immediately ducked and they careened into the wall behind her. The stone began to crumble, sending debris everywhere.

While her back was turned, he sent another set hurdling toward her. This time, he didn't miss. She was slammed into the wall and fell to the ground.

Aphrodite groaned and rolled onto all fours. Ares would not offer any opportunity to recover and quickly made his way to her. He roughly grabbed her around the throat and, digging his fingers into her neck, he lifted her two feet off the floor. She writhed, pulling at the gauntlet on his arm, and kicked out with her feet. He did nothing but bore into her with those metallic eyes.

She couldn't believe what was happening. She reasoned that the core goodness in her brother couldn't be destroyed. That goodness was not disingenuous, because he had the capacity to love and profoundly. She remembered Ares' selflessness that night on Olympus. She remembered how he wanted to remain by Xena's side, even if that meant being mortal. She remembered the anguish in her brother's eyes when he learned of her passing.

Then, it all made sense.

He had spent so much time as a mortal that it had forever changed him. There had already been proof of that. The wars had been stemming from nothing but Ares' emotions--the grief. After taking the eraser, he no longer had the capacity to guard himself against the reflux. In other words, he was now feeding off of them.

The rage...

The carnage...

The animosity...

Ares was no longer war.... but the seething brutality of it.

She stopped struggling then. Her hands loosened from his arm. Ares looked at her curiously, just for a brief moment, before sending her flying across the room. When she finally fell to the floor, the impact sent her rolling, but she tried to gather herself to stand. Curly, long locks fell over her face as she drew her knees under her. Aphrodite jerked her head, attempting to clear her sight, and that's when Ares started to go for her again. She didn't know how much more she could take. Neither of them could be physically harmed, but mentally, she was to the breaking point.

Pulling more hair from her face, she locked stares with him as he drew near. With each step he made, her heart sped that much faster, till suddenly, something else caught her attention. From the dark recesses came a familiar whirring sound. The chakram, which Ares had sent on a mad flight through the tunnels, was now making its return.

He had told her himself-- its path he had planned. That was the easy part. He was an Olympian after all. Making sure it would reach the intended target was no difficult task. It had been up to her to keep him here till it made its return. She'd accomplished that part of the plan and knew that her only chance to honor her promise was at hand.

Aphrodite quickly shifted her stare, finally realizing just where she had landed. The Eye of Hephaestus loomed above her. Fear began to sink in. She had to get out of the way, for the chakram would enter the room soon and her failure in trapping Ares would result in her own entombment. Yet, she found herself unable to stand--the trepidation was just too intense.

The chakram was staying its course and drawing closer by the sound of it. Aphrodite's eyes jetted back and forth, from the tunnel to the sarchophagus, and then to Ares, who stood a mere foot away.

She felt her muscles tighten, but forced an arm forward, pulling herself an inch toward him. The fear was so immobilizing that she couldn't even seem to simply disappear from the spot utilizing the aether. No, the only thing she could force herself to do was extend her hand and reach for him.

"Ares, please," she pleaded with him, "help me!"

He didn't move, but simply looked down at her with disgust. "Nothing is holding you back but your own fear, coward."

The words ripped at her very core and she closed her eyes. She couldn't stand to see the way he admonishingly stared at her, as if she was a pathetic waste. But, by sheilding him from sight, she found that was forced to look within herself, remind herself of how Ares, the real Ares, was selfless enough to let go of everything he'd ever, truly, cared about. He had put others before himself, put fear behind him, and did what had to be done.

Aphrodite felt tears run down her face. Ares was able to let love take precedence over fear and here she was, love herself, unable to do the same. Yet, as much as this realization pained her, it also woke her up.

The monster was right, her plea had been cowardly. But, he was also right about something else---

Nothing was holding her back... and if war was capable of love, then love was capable of waging war.

Aphrodite opened her eyes. There was a glimmer there, a steely resolve.

There was little time left to get the job done. She knew he was capable of stopping the chakram from flying, that he could pluck it from the air without difficulty. She had to distract him so it could finish its course and strike the Eye. The trick was to make him want it to. If he continued to think she had been defeated, that she was the one who would be locked away, then Aphrodite knew she stood a chance.

She heard the chakram enter the room, bouncing off the wall behind him. Ares briefly turned to look at it and just as quickly turned back.

"Ares," she began to utter. "I'm your sister..I loved you," she extended her hand again and desperately pleaded, "Don't do this. If anything good in you still remains, any of that humanity, don't do this."

The moment was drawing near. Aphrodite's fingers curled into her palm. A light sparked beneath them. She took a breath, though her throat resisted, and gazed up at Ares. He met her stare, his face unreadable and her newly found confidence unexplainably began to waver...

Time slowed as his muscles flinched. He was reaching for her and she couldn't decipher whether or not he did so to help or to keep her in place. She felt her heart lurch.What if there was a spark of compassion left? What if she was wrong and he hadn't totally succumbed to the power? Maybe he had been wrong too. Perhaps there was hope that he could control it and the entombment wasn't necessary.

These thoughts threatened to split her head and from the recesses of her mind sprung a memory, something he had told her that night in the barn.

"I had to make a choice. There was no time to think about it. So, for once in my entire existence, I followed my heart."

Aphrodite nearly choked on her tongue. If her heart was trying to tell her anything, the words were muffled by its rampant beating, and there was no time to second guess. The moment Ares' arm began to move, she opened her hand, sending the bolt into him. He was knocked back and she quickly launched herself at him.

As her delicate fingers wrapped around Ares' leather tunic, the chakram struck the Eye. A shatter of sparks rained down and the weapon seemed to ignite and split in two, each part ricocheting off the orb. These weren't mere pieces, but the base elements, no longer joined. The chakrams, light and dark, criss-crossed and headed in separate directions out of the room.

The ruby gem, the iris of the Eye, snapped to life. It glowed, as if awakened, and a beam began to filter down. Just out of its sight, love and war were locked in a battle for supremecy, gripping so hard that each were white-knuckled. Yet, somehow, their reeling bodies looked so graceful--as if waltzing upon the stone floor.

He squeezed her arms so tight that she thought they would break.

"Ares, this wasn't supposed to happen!"

"You brought it all on yourself!"

Those words were like a slap to the face. The only reason she was here was because he had asked her to finish it for him. Anger brewed deep within her belly, her hands pulled his tunic all the more taut, and she ground out the first thing that came to mind.

"Don't forget, brother, love always conquers war--one way or the other."

Tightening his grip even more, Ares brought his face within an inch of her own and smiled.

"Only if you let it."

The way he spoke so icily chilled her. Just as before, she felt the fight within begin to weaken beneath his stare. Maybe she had brought this all on herself. He didn't want to come back here. He had fought her with his last breath, writhing in anguish upon that grassy floor...

Perhaps what gripped her now was a monster of her own creation.

A sob tore through her chest and she no longer looked at him with anger---no, instead Ares' reflection was held in the pools of weary regret.

"I am so sorry for what I did to you. You were right...you don't belong here." Her surprisingly soft-spoken words caused him to arch a brow. "I should've never made you drink the ambrosia. You're nothing but a shell of what you were..."

"Of what I was--"

"The power has drowned you."

Ares' fingers clenched against Aphrodite's skin and her eyes glistened with sorrow. A tear brimmed over, ran the length of her face and dropped down against his chest. This trespass did not go unnoticed and the muscle of his jaw flickered.

"Stop crying!"

"I'm so sorry, brother. I should've known better."

Another tear fell.

"Stop it--"

"I thought your heart was stronger than this."

She was emotionally drained, but the stalemate continued and every spin brought them closer to the growing beam of light. Ares tried to hold her stare, but all that could be focused on were the glints of red shining atop his dark hair, and with each turn of the heel the color intensified. They were so close now.

Though she didn't want to see the truth of this, she turned her head and gasped. Ares looked to the orb as well. Its light was sheeting down just a mere inch away. Their dance was played out and now, they came to a halt.

"So, it's true," she shakily breathed, feeling the beam's radiant light brush her face, "there is nothing left of you."

Ares shook her by the arms, daring his sister to look at him. When she did, he was nothing but a blur to her reddened eyes. Her arms ached beneath his grasp and she knew that he was about to do away with her.

"I loved you, Ar. I still do."

He regarded her face, the way her eyes were drowned by welling tears that undoubtedly clouded her sight.

"The power has drowned you."

Ares bowed his head an inch and ground his teeth, trying to silence her lasping words. He was war, he wasn't supposed to feel.

"..yet you do.."

He had heard that somewhere before...though he couldn't place where, or from who. It was like he was missing a piece of a puzzle and this deeply frustrated him. The sound of the crackling torches seemed to grow more hollow in tonality as that broken whisper filtered through his head, again and again.

Aphrodite watched the way his head lulled back like a drunken soldier and his arm muscles flinched as if in spasm. She inwardly shuddered, knowing that her brother was about to finish it.

He jerked her body forward, causing her chin to collide with his shoulder. Ares leaned in close to her ear and his breath snapped against her skin like a whip.

"Good-bye, Aphrodite."

Those words were spoken with as much warmth as an ice storm and when they registered, she drew her head back to take in the sight of his face. Ares' lips were twisted, his teeth were bared, but those eyes--those metallic eyes seemed to flicker.

This was it.

Her fingers loosened and before she knew what was happening, her feet no longer touched the floor. Inside she cried out, realizing she had failed, feeling her body grow weightless as it flew through the air. Roughly, she careened into the wall and slumped to the ground.

The wall? Yes, it was the wall, slick and cool against the side of her face, the palm of her hand. Though her eyes felt as though they were welled shut, she forced them open. She was sprawled against the stone nearly twenty feet away, out of sight--out of danger. But if she was there then--

Aphrodite's lip dropped in astonishment. There Ares stood, bathed in translucent red light which now skirted the floor, each muscle of his body strung tight. Her brother's head was thrown back, exposing the pulsating lines of his throat. The irridescent ray coarsed through his body like lightning and he was unable to step away.

Had he spared her? Or was this entrapment brought upon by an unbridled, blind rage--a clouded sense of judgment? She didn't know and the doubt alone caused her heart to pang.

Aphrodite stumbled to her feet, scuffing the floor with each precarious step. Briefly, she considered an attempt at pushing her brother out of the way, but the thought was just as soon dashed--whether there was anything decent left in him or not, it was already too late.

Besides, according to her brother, this had to be done...she just couldn't accept it.

With each passing moment, Ares' body seemed to become more and more transparent. The Eye was drawing him in. She forlornly stared on till, suddenly, there was an explosion, a myriad of color which was so intensely bright that she had to shield her eyes. Grating marble and stone cried out, echoing for what seemed an eternity...then all was silent. Slowly, she lowered her arm. He was no longer there--the sarchophagus was sealed.

Aphrodite slumped to the floor, her eyes dead-panned. Ares was gone... and deep within she knew he had been for a long time... from the moment she forced the ambrosia down his throat.

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

Gabrielle, still composing her thoughts beside the campfire, leaned back against a tree. In her hands she held Xena's ashes, pondering how someone who seemed larger than life could be reduced to nothing more than dust. Another tear ran down her face and she put the small pot down in a marble case and shut the lid.

She wiped the wetness away and in doing so, looked up. There, above her head, was Ares' sword, lodged firmly in the trunk of the evergreen she rested against. He had launched it there earlier. The weapon looked chilling, lined with the moon's blue light which filtered down through the tree's leaves.

The bard thought it curious that he hadn't returned to claim it. She slowly stood on wobbly legs and her brow wrinkled before she cautiously grasped the hilt. Gabrielle pulled back, but the weapon was unmoved. Again she tried, this time placing her foot against the tree for more leverage. Still, it would not come, and as she attempted a third time, a bright shatter of light from behind halted her from doing so.

"So, you came back for it? Couldn't stand the fact that I put my hands on this too, could you," she ground out bitterly, letting her arms fall to her sides.

"He won't be coming back, Gabrielle."

The bard's head lowered, realzing who it was standing behind her. She quickly turned and sure enough, there was Aphrodite. She looked so out of place standing amongst the trees and brush, her feet shrouded by fallen leaves, her face reddened and stained with tears. Her hair was even a mess and Gabrielle found this completely perplexing.

"Aphrodite, you've been crying?"

She closed her eyes and bobbed her head. "Yes."

"What's happened," Gabrielle moved to stand next to her, stepping over her bedroll, "what is it?"

"Ares is gone."

"No, that's not possible. I just saw-"

"He's gone... locked away in a tomb beneath the Halls of War," Aphrodite looked up through the trees at the stars and repeated to herself, "he's gone."

"Entombed? I don't under-"

"The Eye of Hephaestus, " she answered, moving to look her in the face, "it holds him there."

And then, Gabrielle remembered what he had told her earlier.

"...don't worry..Hephaestus will be keepin' watch..."

"He got his powers back, " Gabrielle started to say, staring off at the campfire which burned brightly just a few steps away. She silently mused that it would burn for as long as it could--for as long as there was something to feed off of, and her head slowly began to shake. "What would make him just throw it all away? I mean, I know he's distressed, he told me himself, but-"

"Love." Dite turned around and crossed her arms, breathing in the night's perfume. "He did it out of love."

Gabrielle sat down on a nearby log and continued to stare off into the fire. Both shadows and light played upon her shrugged up face as she tried to process the information--it made no sense to her.

"For what purpose? Xena's-"

"I know. You don't understand," Aphrodite began, taking a seat next to her. "My brother didn't want to go back to Olympus. Ares was sword fighting when he realized Xena had been killed--there was an accident--he was going to--" She stopped and swallowed back the bitter hollowness in her throat.

"But how would he know that?"

"True love knows no bounds. He knew because he felt it," Aphrodite pointed to her heart, "here. Ares was content to just slip away--I couldn't let him, so I did what I felt I had to. I made him take the ambrosia." Her tone considerably dropped as she asked, "Does that make me a monster?"

"No, why would you think that?"

She tore her eyes from Gabrielle and abruptly stood. "He had changed during his time here as a mortal. He couldn't handle the power." Aphrodite stiffly walked up to the sword and effortlessly pulled it from the trunk. She fondly regarded it, holding it up so as the firelight's warm glow reflected against her face.

Though it shouldn't have been that surprising, Gabrielle was somewhat startled that the blade was extricated with little difficulty. She slowly brought her feet up on the log and picked at her boots, noting the way that Aphrodite held the sword--one which had been imbued with the passions of war--so comfortably.

"When he came here, he told me that wars were feeding off his grief."

"Yes...which only made him feel worse. He asked me to help him." She rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand, trying to force the tears away as she whispered,"I had to be the one to keep him there."

Gabrielle felt her own tears tease her eyes. "I can't imagine how hard that was for you."

"You're right, you can't. You don't know the burden of doubting what--" Dite paused and breathed out, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to-"

"No, it's alright."

Aphrodite lowered the sword and attempted to regain composure. "No, I came to talk with you for a reason..."

"What is it?"

There was a long span of silence. Gabrielle felt quite unnerved by it. Actually, she felt reather uneased by the entire situation. Aphrodite's soft features looked so, oddly, cold against the light of the fire. A delicate hand was still wrapped firm around the sword and its tip skirted the ground as she stood there immobile.

Briefly, Gabrielle considered speaking up once more, but as her lips parted to speak the fire crackled and sparked. The sound caused Aphrodite to raise her weary face.

"My brother is gone, but I don't want him to be forgotten. He did something that no one thought possible. He transcended what he was born to be-"

Gabrielle lowered her reddened eyes and faintly smiled. "Love conquered war."

"It was love, but I had nothing to do with it. That's the thing, Gabrielle-- he conquered himself." Her words trailed off, enforcing the poignancy of them and another cloud of silence seemed to settle on the campsite before she finally spoke again. "I know you two weren't close, but you are so eloquent and I can't think of anyone better to-"

"It would be an honor," Gabrielle answered, already knowing where this was going.

Aphrodite's lips curled down, though she wasn't frowning. She was smiling through tears, trying to suppress the sobs in her chest. "Thank you."

Here was that special story, one that was shocking, profound, and adventurous all at the same time. It had been glaring her in the face and she just hadn't seen the forest for the trees. Gabrielle would make sure her words did it justice. Nothing less would do.

"And I was thinking," she looked pointedly at her worn satchel, "all of my scrolls tell of Xena's adventures. She's gone now and I know that I can't move forward if I'm always looking back." She breathed deeply, knowing she would probably kick herself for doing this, but went on to say, "I think you should take them too."

Aphrodite's eyes closed and, again, she whispered, "Thank you."

"And thank you."

Her eyes flickered open and they flooded with firelight as she looked curiously at the young woman sitting before her."Me? For what?"

"For looking out for me the night-"

Dite turned around and cast her a sideways glance. "Not the best memory, but... you're welcome." She raised the sword. One hand remained on the hilt while the other drew its way along the underside of the blade. "I'm sorry about Xena."

"I'm sorry too."

Aphrodite slowly turned to the fire, watching the way the flames burned bright against the bleak night.

"What do you plan to do with her ashes?"

Gabrielle's brow wrinkled. "How did you know-"

"I was watching you for a couple of mintues before I actually appeared."

The bard slightly tipped her head and stood. She could hear each leaf crackle beneath her boots as she moved to stand beside Aphrodite.

"I plan to go to Amphipolis." She stared off. The words felt so stiff in her mouth--like she wasn't actually saying them. Nothing had completely sunken in yet. "Xena always told me that... if anything ever happened to her... to take her back there-- to Lyceus, her brother."

"Brothers are special," Aphrodite mused, raising Ares' sword level with her face. The light of both the fire and moon coalesced against the steel, causing it to glow like a beacon. Her lips shakily turned up. "Now, it's time to do right by mine."

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

Late that night, beneath the Halls of War, surrounded by ebony stone, fine tapestries, and dancing shadows, Aphrodite wearily leaned against the marble encasement which held her brother. A hand gently trailed across its lid--the swirling steel depicting Ares' face. The torchlight kissed the metal and burned bright against her welling eyes. A tear rolled down from one and splashed against the steely countenance.

She gently wiped it away as she continued to regard his cold face. Though it was intricately crafted, undeniably gorgeous, it was nothing compared to the stunning warmth of the real thing. No, it couldn't outshine the work of art that was her brother. It was ironic in a way... that war could be so beautiful.

Aphrodite sucked back the lump in her throat as she lovingly drew her fingers away. "I shall miss you."

She gracefully bent down to retrieve his sword from the ground, placed it upon the top of the sarchophagus, and begrudgingly looked up at the imposing, gleaming Eye that loomed above. Its iris was now dormant, but it still emanated a sense of consciousness. Aphrodite took a step back and was somewhat unnerved by the sound of her sandal scraping against the floor. Apart from the crackling torches, it was the only noise to echo through the great hall.

There seemed to be a chill surrounding her, one she couldn't shake. Although Aphrodite tried to push the memory of losing her brother from mind, she couldn't help but wonder if he had truly spared her.

"If anything good in you still remains, any of that humanity, don't do this."

What if there was? What if there was just one spark that had been bright enough to carry out his plans? Would it linger there, waiting for something or someone to ignite it, or would it fizzle into the black depths of that sarcophagus, never to see the light? Perhaps, one day, this question would be answered, but she knew that it was not her who held the key to unlocking its mystery.

Now, the tomb was ready to be sealed. The hole that had been blasted into the wall during their fight had since been mended with nothing more than a flick of her wrist. Gabrielle's scrolls were now stored away within a secret location just outside the room and, though they were hidden well, Aphrodite knew that these stories would be told again one day---

As for the chakrams....

The two discs had careened down separate tunnels after splitting against the Eye. Aphrodite had managed to find both and decided to leave them where their journeys had come to end. One was embedded in the stone above where she had placed the scrolls and the other had lodged itself in Ares' throne room...just above the empty chair...

A tear rolled down Aphrodite's face and she gingerly wiped it away.

She turned and strode toward one of the exits. A panel had been placed by the mouth of this tunnel. There, chisled in the rock, was the bard's latest tale--a story about war, about redemption---a story about love.

Dite meekly smiled as her hand trailed across it. Shadows and light fused together, making the the lettering look all the more bold. She swallowed back to clear her aching throat and read the first line aloud.

"Legend has it that Ares and Xena were bound by some deep bond..."

These words, essentially powerless by themselves, were drawn together so poignantly that they caused Aphrodite's heart to palpitate. She brought her hands to her wet face for the sting of a new set of tears made its case. A half laugh, half cry passed her lips and she looked back at the sarcophagus gleaming under the firelight.

The torch flames danced and flickered brilliantly, but now, it was time for them to be put out. It was time to say...

"Good-bye."

Her chest swelled painfully as she waved a hand. Everything went to black...everything fell silent. The cold seemed to hold her all the more tightly and she knew it was time to go. Leaning against the wall for support, she shakily walked beyond the archway of the room and into the tunnel.

But, just as she was about leave-- she thought she heard something. Aphrodite stiffened and her brows lowered, trying to decipher what the sound had been. For what seemed like hours, she stood there in the dark, not daring to breathe, but not a thing could be heard save her beating heart.

"Get a grip," she whispered, running her hands along her arms. "It's probably just a draft."

The aether consumed her a moment later and large, marble walls ground out a somber song as they slid down into place, sealing both ends of the hall.

Yes, everything was immersed in a shroud of black. Not a thing could be seen, but what Aphrodite had heard wasn't a mere draft. No, they were whispers and, though their source could not be identified, the words licked the walls and echoed in perfect clarity.

"Well, even when I toss my chakram, it always, eventually, comes back. It's just a matter of waiting."

"For you, I could wait an eternity."

...and then...a lone torch lit.

The End