But Not Soon Enough
by Taleen

The Warrior Princess had not felt that particular sizzle down her spine in some time. She spun around and squarely faced the God of War.

"Xena."

"Ares. I see Aphrodite's little potion worked--you've got your Godhood back."

The dark-haired Olympian grinned cockily and spread his hands apart. "You know me. Never could resist temptation."

Temptation--there was a loaded word. Memory of his ardent kisses smoldered in her blood, ready to char her to ash should she weaken. She hammered the door shut on her natural response and assumed a detached air.

"Huh," she grunted. "What do you want now, Ares?"

The War God's face sobered. He paced around her, considering how best to phrase his confession, to make her understand. She turned on the spot, never letting him get behind her.

"Xena… I tried to believe it was over between us--but I was a fool. I was lying to myself." He moved in close, speaking earnestly, "I still love you, Xena. I still want to be with you."

"You've got to be kidding!"

He tried to take her hand but she wrenched away. "You and me, Ares? What does Wifey-poo think of that?"

At his blank look her lip curled with scorn. "Bored with her already? You're married, Ares, or have you forgotten? No wait," she held up her hand, "I get it. Like father like son. Your cheatin' heart could never be true."

Pain washed over his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered… "I was married."

"Ah. Got wise to you, did she?"

"Lianna's dead."

Gods didn't fall in love, except for that idiot Cupid. Gods took what they wanted and never minded the consequences. But Ares had loved Xena; her rejection had hurt him in ways he could never have foreseen. For the last year he'd forced himself to live with it… and tried to forget her in the arms of another woman.

It hadn't worked, entirely. The Warrior Princess was always in the back of his mind, in a little cupboard he tried to keep shut when he was with Lianna.

His mortal bride had been a rare delight--delicate as a moonshadow, strong as a minotaur. In private she'd been spunky and sassy and so willing... He had cared for her, and given enough time might have come to love her as much as he had the other.

But the Fates had other plans.

He'd actually wept for Xena when he thought her dead; now he had another woman to mourn.

Ares' ever-fertile brain began to formulate and discard various schemes within minutes of Aphrodite 's gift of Ambrosia.

With Zeus and Athena dead Ares might have assumed he was next in line for the throne of Olympus, but when the War God sacrificed his immortality Apollo usurped that role. The others had been all too willing to accept the change of order until the Sun God began running roughshod over all.

Still, the pack of sniveling weaklings he'd called family could surely have found him anytime in the last year if they hadn't been so cowed. Ares had little sympathy to spare--he'd had his own travails. What did he owe the other Gods? Nothing. And nothing they would get.

Lianna was already carrying his child; Mother Neesa, the village healer, expected no difficulties. The young woman was sturdy, healthy--good country stock. She would be an excellent mother.

Fine. He would marry the girl. Lianna would breed Gods, the beginning of a whole new race. His worthless siblings could go suck Phoenix eggs.

That horse-faced Archangel Michael would get his wingfeathers in a twist but so what? There was more than one Power in the universe…

Lianna slipped Ares' shirt down over his shoulders, revealing the silver flask hanging about his neck. Nestled in the silky dark hair on his chest, it winked seductively in the candlelight, calling her attention.

"What's this, my love? You never wore this before."

"This," he lifted the object of her curiosity, "is our future." He gently removed her fingers from the flask and kissed them one by one. "I want you to fetch a bowl and spoon."

"Right this minute?" she murmured. She nuzzled his throat, her hands already at work on the ties of his trousers.

He shivered in anticipation. "Maybe not… right… this minute… "

Sighing dreamily, Ares' bride rested her cheek on his skin as she walked her fingers over his muscular chest and thumbed his taut nipples. "You mentioned something about our future?"

"That was hours ago… "

"Hmmmm, I know. Did you want me to go for those dishes now?"

"Before the future becomes the past? Go, you little minx. When you return I'll have a special surprise for you." It's not everyday a new Goddess is created.

He watched her slip out of bed and throw on a robe with smug satisfaction and due admiration for her pregnant form. She waggled her fingers at him and allowed a flash of leg as a tease; he plumped up the pillows behind his shoulders and settled back to wait.

It was early evening; there would no doubt be a few hangers-on in the barroom below. She would probably be side-tracked by patrons and well-wishers before she could get back to him.

Let her not be too long. An ardent husband should never be kept waiting.

Lianna had grown up in this inn; she knew every inch, every creaking floorboard--yet those same boards now gave their treacherous allegiance to Atropos the Threadcutter.

Ares heard her terrified scream as she tumbled down the stairs. He was off the bed and out the door, snagging a sheet to cover himself as he went, in time to hear something else he would never forget--the snapping of bone.

He froze in horror halfway down.

Nessus began to wail as he sank by his daughter's still form; Leda, apron covered in flour and gravy, heard the commotion and darted from the kitchen. She skidded to a stop behind her husband and stood, one balled fist over her mouth, as shock drained her face of all color.

The patter of small feet behind him jerked Ares to his senses--he put himself in Aylissa's path, preventing the curious eight-year-old from shooting past and seeing her sister's crumpled body below. Sternly he sent her back to her room. His thunderous visage scared her, and for once she obeyed.

Word of the tragedy sped rapidly through the village. Mother Neesa arrived, hobbling wearily, already certain of what she would find. She felt for a non-existent pulse, gazed up at Ares in mute sorrow and shook her head wordlessly.

Nessus' last hope fled; he collapsed across the body in a paroxysm of grief. Mother Neesa helped Leda to a chair; neighbors, anxious to help, produced a blanket and a hot drink. Something strong to dull the pain.

Ares was helpless, unable to restore his wife or save his unborn child (Atropos had been greedy with her scissors). The image of Xena, dead in his arms (twice, no less, though each time temporarily), battered at his memory. This wasn't temporary--there was no going back, no miraculous last-minute reprieve.

Mortality opened its gaping maw before him. He teetered on the brink of the chasm, screaming his rage to the heavens until his throat was raw.

In one Fateful instant all of the Olympian's dreams had disintegrated.

Numbed by his loss, Ares kept vigil by Lianna's corpse and dredged his mind for reasons. How could she be so beautiful, loving, vibrant one minute, and the next… ? How could she have fallen? Had Atropos been duped? Surely it hadn't been Lianna's time. What of the child, now lost too?

Had Apollo somehow figured out Ares' plans and interfered? If the Sun God had anything to do with this Ares would wring his bloody neck when he got back to Olympus. But what if it wasn't him? Whose fault was it? It couldn't have been her time. Dammit, would he always be alone? Why must he always lose the women he cared about?

Why was she dead?

The village women had bathed and dressed Lianna in her wedding finery and laid her out on the bed. Nessus was a basketcase, blubbering in the corner. Leda was little better--wound tight, she had yet to shed a tear. Aylissa had been deemed too young to take part in the proceedings; all she could do, when she was finally allowed in, was climb on her brother-in-law's lap and hug him with all her might.

Eventually Ares set the little one down and shooed her out. Mother Neesa, sensing he needed time alone, pressed her hand on his shoulder and followed, pushing Nessus and Leda ahead of her. Once they were gone he sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands plowing through his hair. Finally he pulled out the flask and turned it over and over.

He'd failed as a mortal. He'd failed as a God, but at least as a God he had power; he could do something.

Mother Neesa entered the room as he tipped up the flask. Instantly, thinking of poison, she cried out in alarm, trying to stop him.

Too late. The glistening ruby Ambrosia already jellied down his throat.

Its effects were immediate. Neesa fell to her knees and covered her eyes from the blinding flash.

Lightning coruscated over his body in a lacy azure web, head to heart to groin to toes--his hair blackened, his skin glowed, his eyes shone nova-white as Time stopped and, for Ares, reversed. Even his clothing altered, transforming into the silverstudded black leather he'd always favored as an immortal.

When it was done he was no longer Arecles, village hunter, but Ares, Olympian God. He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, stretching his newly-charged muscles and holding his fists out before him. "I'm back!"

The healer dragged herself to her feet and stretched out her fingers to his face, not quite daring to touch. "Boy? Is that you?"

Ares threw back his head and laughed throatily, intoxicated by the sense of Power surging through his body.

Mother Neesa nodded. "I always knew there was something different about you."

The War God tipped his head in acknowledgment of her past kindness before turning to the shrouded form on the bed. He stared at Lianna for a moment, then bent and slid his arms beneath the body. Dizzily, he remembered carrying Xena this same way.

Seconds later, before the single tear could be witnessed, he and his burden zapped out of sight.

The villagers staggered back as the whitehot starflare appeared in their midst.

Ares, holding Lianna, glanced around at the mortal company. His friends for the past year--the butcher and his family, the baker, with flour smudging his nose, the chandler who'd supplied his best tallow, the blacksmith who'd let the stranger use his forge, his inlaws, Nessus and Leda-- they'd all accepted him at face value.

Now, with his true identity apparent, he overawed them all. Even Aylissa; she peered out at him with huge eyes from behind her mother's skirts.

With deep regret he placed his dead wife on the bier, stepped back, pointed--and burnt the remains to ash with a godly firebolt.

He had one more thing to do, and elsewhere to do it.

Lianna's brother, Xandros, was proud and pleased, although somewhat mystified, to be chosen by the God of War for a special mission. What had he done to catch the Olympian's attention? The news of his sister's marriage and death rocked him, though he tried hard to remain stoic in front of his idol. Ares finally convinced the youth that his place was at home with his parents and Aylissa, guarding them from harm. He left the encampment with the War God's talisman around his neck.

Apollo, with Ares' hands clamped on his throat, vehemently protested his innocence. The War God reluctantly believed him.

Atropos raised a brow. "Are you questioning my Judgement? It was her time."

"But the child--!"

The crone shrugged and made no apology. "These things happen. You have other children. What are you going on about?"

He could get no satisfaction, no closure anywhere.

Weeks passed. Ares moped around the Halls of War, ignoring the hovering handmaidens and petitioning generals, searching his soul for his raison d'etre. One face kept returning to him.

Xena. The woman who'd opened his heart.

If he could convince her--if, as Mother Neesa had advised him, he had made her proud, perhaps this time she would consent to be his Queen.

Lianna was gone,

And he did miss her, but his plans could still come to fruition; he could sire a new race of Gods on Xena…

"I'm so sorry, Ares. I didn't know." Xena's voice softened in sympathy. She reached out to touch his arm.

"I mourned her. I sent her brother home, I kept armies away from her village… Xena, for the last year I've tried to do everything to make you proud…"

"I am proud of you, Ares."

"Then come back to me, Xena. She's gone, but you're still here. You're the only one…"

"I can't. I can't love you. You… your intensity," she dropped her eyes in embarrassment and whispered, "you scare me."

He blinked at her.

"I scare you?"

She cast him a distressed look and glanced quickly away.

"I never thought of you as a coward, Xena."

"Me neither. But Ares, I just can't be with you."

"Well." He shook his head, as if shaking out cobwebs. "That's it then." Sighing, he looked away, "I guess… I won't see you again."

"Wait, Ares. What… what are you going to do?"

His mouth worked; he surveyed the horizon for a moment before answering.

"War I am, and War I shall be."

"Ares--you've lived with mortals, as a mortal, seen their suffering--"

"I take no pleasure in it anymore, Xena. But it's the only thing I know how to do." He chewed his lip. "It's my job."

With regret in his voice he turned to her and filled his gaze with her face one last time. "Goodbye, Xena." And without more ado he disappeared.

The Warrior Princess stared into the void he'd left, not least in her heart. Moisture seeped slowly from her eyes and coursed a jagged run down her cheek.

She wept silently, for herself, for the man/God who'd loved her…

And for a world that would never be without War.

"Xena, Vagrus has a hundred warriors. The village will be annihilated!"

The Warrior Princess looked grim. She didn't answer.

"Aren't we going to do something?"

"There's nothing we can do, Gabrielle. We're too far away. We can't get there in time."

The Bard looked stricken. "By the Gods, Xena--" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "All those people… "

Below them the warlord signaled for the attack; the horses broke from a trot to an easy canter as dust swirled and billowed up around them like spores from a million puffballs. The drumming of their hooves reached faintly to the two women high on the ridge.

Stonefaced, Xena held her eyes steady on the scene. She was determined, if she could do nothing to stop the impending carnage, to bear witness--and to seek vengeance for the innocents.

The warriors began to yell as they approached their target. At the nearest edge of the village a young man carving a block of wood looked up, flipped a lock of dark blond hair out of his eyes and smiled. Others in the village went about their business apparently unconcerned with the violence to come. Gabrielle puzzled over their lack of panic and exchanged glances with her friend.

A hundred yards out the ragtag army split and careened down each side of the village; their momentum carried them right past the last house.

"Xena? Did I just see--?"

"I saw it too, Gabrielle."

"What in Hades is going on?"

Some distance beyond Vagrus struggled to regroup his men. He yanked his horse's head around and kicked it savagely in the ribs. Bellowing curses he led the charge back toward the intended victims.

Once again some invisible, magical force repelled them.

It took three more attempts before he gave up in disgust and ordered his disgruntled men away. Easier pickings could be found elsewhere.

Xena shook out her reins and put Argo into a trot.

"We're going in?" her companion asked.

"We're going to try."

They passed the first house, the second, the third… nothing stopped them. Xena recognized the village--Ares had lived here most of the year he was mortal. He'd married after Xena had told him she didn't want him. She'd even convinced herself, so why did she still feel the little knife of jealousy?

Ares had acquired a stash of Ambrosia but before he could immortalize his sweet young bride she fell victim to the Fates.

That had been six months ago. He was once more the God of War, although there'd been no recent outbreaks of hostility--well, none major at least--to herald his return. Xena, who'd refused Ares for the umpteenth time, began to think he really had changed, and found herself regretting his continued absence.

The annoying thing was that, now that she'd gotten him out of her life, she missed him.

A young man's voice roused her from her introspection.

"Mornin', ladies. Lovely day, isn't it?"

Xena jerked her chin toward the outskirts of the village. "Those men who--"

"Happens a lot. We don't pay them any mind anymore."

Gabrielle spoke up. "Is the village under some kind of spell?"

"You could say that. Our lord Ares protects us."

"Ares? God of War? That Ares?"

"Uh huh. Oh, where are my manners?" The youth put down his carving tool and bowed smoothly. "I'm Xandros. Welcome to Areopolis."

Argo loved having her nose rubbed and her ears scratched. The youth obliged the golden mare as he explained the history of the village to his listeners.

"My sister was the only one who knew her husband's true identity--he kept it secret from everyone else. After she--" he tightened his jaw, rubbed the corner of his eye and after a moment started again. "Anyway, Ares revealed himself at the funeral, or so I was told, then he left." Xandros gazed up at the sky thoughtfully. "Guess he couldn't stand to be here any longer, without her." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "One morning we woke up and that statue had appeared."

Xena silently examined the face in pale marble; it was a perfect likeness of the innkeeper's daughter as the warrior had last seen her, reciting her marriage vows to the tall dark man beside her.

Xandros continued, "Then we noticed all the buildings had markings on them. And--no-one's been able to attack us since."

Both women glanced around, picking out the symbols painted or carved on every wall, wagon and wheelbarrow--Ares' sigil, swooping horns above an elongated X.

"That's when we decided to rename the village." Their informant chuckled and shook his head, "First time everyone ever agreed on anything." He gazed up at his sister's image and heaved a deep sigh. "Father said he was a good man. I guess he really loved her."

"Yeah, I guess so." Xena grunted and forced herself to view (dispassionately? Ha!) the lovely woman in marble. What if I'd said 'yes'? Ares would never have come here, never have taken a wife--and all these people would be dead.

She dug her heels into Argo's flanks and headed for the inn.

She needed a drink.

Xandros, son of Nessus and Leda, brother of Lianna and Aylissa, had been sent home from battle by Ares himself. The War God had learned much during his year as a pitiful mortal; he meant to ensure the safety and security of all the people who had been kind to him.

The youth retired his weapons and took up woodcarving. His current and most ambitious project, a primitive yet recognizable image of the God of War, had a distinct charm of its own and only required a proper setting.

That setting stood at the end of town, a temple to Ares built by the villagers in gratitude to their benefactor.

Xena sat on a bench in front of the inn; her feet, crossed at the ankles, rested on the railing. She cupped a mug of cider in her hand and occasionally gnawed on a hunk of cheese and bread as she thoughtfully eyed Xandros and company's progress with the heavy statue. Every five steps the three men had to put it down so they could wipe the sweat out of their eyes and catch their breath. Their grumbling reached her ears.

"Xan, couldn't you have made it a tiny bit smaller?"

"Just don't forget, ol' buddy, that's a big pitcher of ale you owe us."

"Yeah, yeah, come on. I'm anxious to see it in place. Hope he likes it."

"Oh he'll like it. How could he not? It's him. Bigger than life. "

A little girl, perhaps eight or nine, skipped out onto the porch. Her blonde hair escaped from the bands intended to tame it; her rosy cheeks dimpled as she sorted the fistful of daisies and violets she held in her somewhat grimy fingers. "Mama," she called back over her shoulder, "I'm gonna take these to Arecles."

"Aylissa, I don't think you should pester the poor man. He's a God. I'm sure he's very busy."

"It's okay, Mama, he always has time for me." Away she went after her brother, overtaking him and his friends in the middle of the square.

Xena swung her long booted legs down and set off on a parallel path. Aylissa soon tired of waiting on the men and with the exuberance of youth ran on ahead. The warrior strolled casually behind her.

Gabrielle stepped out of the inn in time to witness the impromptu parade; curious, she decided to tag along.

Once inside the modest structure at the end of the street Aylissa called out, "Arecles? Are-cleeeees? Are you here?"

"Hey, little sister, how are you?" The black-clad Olympian appeared and dropped immediately to one knee, reaching out to ruffle her hair fondly. "What's this? Have you got something for me?"

"These." Aylissa stuck the flowers in his face. He took them from her and buried his nose in the bouquet's center, inhaling their delicate scent.

Xena hung back in the shadows, watching. Marveling. He'd never looked so fine to her before. Maybe she'd been a little hasty…

"They're lovely, my dear. I'll treasure them always. Look." He opened his hand and allowed the blossoms to float in midair with no visible support. At a gesture a crystal ovoid formed around them, sealing in their freshness forever. With a snap of his fingers they vanished.

Aylissa squealed, "Where'd they go?"

"I sent them to my palace on Mount Olympus. Every time I see them I'll think of you."

The child giggled and clapped her hands in delight. Slipping her arms around his neck she embraced him and whispered, "I love you, Arecles."

"I love you too, little one. Now scoot. I'm sure your mother has supper waiting."

"Maybe she'll let me have some candy." The thought of it made her eyes glow.

"Maybe later," he tapped her on the nose, "if you eat all your vegetables."

Aylissa screwed up her face and pouted, then burst out laughing, gave him another hug and danced out of the temple. Plans to convince her mother that a good little daughter deserved all the sweets in the house were foremost in her mind.

Ares let his grin fade as he watched her leave. His eyes shut, his head drooped and his shoulders slumped…

Xena bit her lip. How different he is now!

Finally he rose and turned toward her. "What do you want?"

"Ares, I was so wrong about you."

One brow went up, but he said nothing.

"I'll admit I had certain preconceived notions… which you contributed to--"

He shrugged and waited.

"But you've changed so much. I see that now." She stepped hesitantly toward him. "I--I've been thinking. About… us." Casting her eyes about the temple she spied the altar and moved toward it, willing the turmoil in her stomach to settle. It seemed strange to see fruit and flowers offered to the warrior Prince; it was another indication of how different things were. Maybe now was the right time for them. Maybe… if she could find the words…

She glanced at his face. If she let it happen she could drown in those dark, inscrutable eyes. She could slip her hands inside his vest, stroke his furry chest, and lower… Her face heated. She could let him take her to the heights of passion, finish what had been begun so many times before… and maybe later she would give him a child--it was not above the realm of possibility.

"Maybe we could… start over?"

The other brow followed its mate. "Why? So you can kick me in the balls again?"

Xena winced. His words doused her like a bucket of mountain lake water. "Ares, I never meant to hurt you--"

"Really?" He whistled, "So if you had meant it… " and snorted, "I shudder to think."

She took the last step and lifted her fingers to his cheek. "You were right all along. I was lying to myself." Her eyes fell to his full, luscious lips--she shivered as she remembered the sensation of their supple softness on her skin, and lifted her mouth to his. "I do love you."

Ares circled her wrist, removed her hand from his cheek and tightened his fingers--tightened them until she gasped in surprise.

"Too late, Xena. When I said 'goodbye'," he frowned down at her, "I meant it."

The glare of his sudden exit left her momentarily blind. Before she could clear her vision a pain in her chest staggered her; she clutched at the altar for support.

It felt like a battleaxe had split her in two. For a minute she thought she was dying.

Slowly she made her way out the door, heartsick with the knowledge that the God of War--the man she now admitted she loved--no longer loved her.

Gabrielle met her on the step. "Xena?"

"Gabrielle--" Xena's eyes blurred, "I've lost him."

"Oh Xena… "

The Bard turned to walk with her friend, her arm slipping around the taller woman's waist.

The Warrior Princess appreciated the support on the long trek back to the inn.

Ares sprawled on his throne, deep in thought, his fingers absent-mindedly caressing the crystal egg.

When Xena had raised her face to his, looking for his kiss, wanting his kiss, telling him she loved him, he'd almost succumbed.

But he'd made a promise to himself, that she'd never get to him again.

In a spurt of anger, he flung it across the room. The action spurred him to awareness--in the last, briefest instant before it could shatter against a pillar he arrested its flight. A beckoning finger summoned it to return, drifting lazily across the intervening space. When it reached him he cradled it gently in his hands. He would never destroy the child's gift--the only pure love, besides Lianna's, he'd ever been given.

As for his promise, he meant to keep it. She was bad for him.

But could he?

Aye, there was the rub.

End