DISCLAIMER: Xena, Gabrielle, Argo,
etc. are ©copyright MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. I don’t own them, I
just play with them for a while and, like the good girl I am, I put them back
when I’m done…okay, they get a little worn, but hey…I play hard! Absolutely no
Copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this fiction. It’s
intended as flattery toward the creators, writers, and actors of the
characters. All other characters that appear are ©copyright Devlin@xenafan.com.
This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies may be made for
private use only and I’d appreciate if you included all copyright notices and
this disclaimer.
VIOLENCE WARNING: There is violence (come on
it’s the Conqueror). The nature of the story is not nearly as dark as some
Conqueror fiction, but it’s essence is still the slave / master relationship
that exists between Xena & Gabrielle.
TIMELINE: My own making. Xena is the
Lord, Conqueror of Greece, but she is almost forty-five years old when she
meets the slave, Gabrielle. Many of Xena’s evil ways have been sedated, but not
all. I call this Xena the “thinking woman’s” Conqueror. She is a woman who
wants to try to do the right thing, but doesn’t always know how.
SEX: Yes, I’ll have some, thank
you. Ooops! I mean, yes there is. It is
our favorite two Soulmates, after all. It’s not gratuitous, but it is quite
explicit when it gets going. This story shows consensual as well as
non-consenting love (master/slave), sex and yes, even some light bdsm between two
adult females.
HIGH ANGST WARNING: I was threatened within an
inch of my life if I didn’t start putting this disclaimer on some (all?) of my
work. I will henceforth rate the angst content with sad faces, one being the
lowest and four being the highest. This story earns: L L (2
sad faces for those without TT Fonts)
UNDERAGE WARNING: Hey, the Supreme Court said
in Reno v. American Civil Liberties Union
(1997) that laws against making available, online, certain “indecent”
materials for those under 18 was unconstitutional…look it up! Besides, this is
perfectly “decent.” J
I
only know how others feel about my stories from feedback. Let me know what you
think...homophobes need not apply, however. I’m at: Devlin@xenafan.com
**Special thanks to Jim Kuntz for his permission in using any Lion of Amphipolis references.
The Conqueror
Series
Tale One:
Journey’s End
By LJ Maas
“Good
Morning, Gabrielle.” I addressed my young slave as she entered my bedchamber.
“Good
Morning, My Lord,” she replied in that soft voice of hers.
I
just finished dressing, pulling my boots on when Gabrielle entered the room.
She and I sat down to the wooden table where I took my meals. Sylla already set
the table with a variety of fruits and baked breads, along with some thinly
sliced, smoked fish. As usual, Gabrielle sat at the table across from me with
her head bowed and her hands in her lap.
Taking
our meals together was always an adventure. It was obvious my young slave was
denied food, somewhere along the way, as a form of punishment. She seemed very
accustomed to not eating for long periods of time, then consuming all she could
get her hands on later, to carry her through. I occasionally watched her out of
the corner of my eye and I always seemed to catch her placing something in the
pocket of her skirt for later. I sighed to myself on this morning, as I watched
her slip and apple into that pocket. I could only bite my tongue and
continually reiterate the fact that her food hording was unnecessary.
When
I rose from the table, I crossed the room to where my sword lay, atop a chest
at the foot of my bed. I strapped it to my hip and felt an oddness to the
gesture. Funny, but for all these years that I have ruled and lived in this
palace, I have worn one sword, but it still feels strange not to have two
swords at my waist, as I do when in battle. I spent so many seasons as a
warrior, two blades in my hand, that it truly became a part of me.
I
shook off the memory and returned to the table. Gabrielle watched as I stopped
and dropped to one knee before her. My height was intimidating and I had no
desire to press my superiority over my slave. I took her hands in my own and
enjoyed the smoothness against my own skin.
“Gabrielle?”
I paused and she looked up, never completely looking me in the eye. I wasn’t
sure where to start since I didn’t want to frighten her. “Gabrielle, remember
what I told you about food in my home?”
“Yes,
My Lord…forgive me, I--”
“Ssh,
it’s all right, I’m not angry.” I reached into her skirt pocket and produced
the apple she tucked there. She guiltily lowered her eyes.
“I
want you to try to remember something…look at me, Gabrielle,” I added gently.
She raised her head again and I realized I was growing accustomed to the way
her eyes avoided looking directly into mine.
“As
long as I have food on my table, little one, you will not go hungry.” The term
of endearment just seemed to spill easily off my tongue and I made no attempt
to get it back as it seemed fitting for my small, lovely slave. “Gabrielle,
have I lied to you yet, since you have been in my service?”
“No,
My Lord.”
“And,
I will not, especially about this. Now,” I returned the apple back to its
hiding spot in her skirt. “If you want this because you may grow hungry for a
snack, or even if you want to pay the stable a visit and treat Tenorio, that is
fine. Only, never fear that I will deny you food as punishment. Do you believe
me?” I asked at last, knowing it would be difficult for her to answer that.
“I--”
She didn’t know how to answer truthfully. “I will try, My Lord.”
“Then
that is all we can ask, is it not?” I smiled at her and although it was not
something I usually did, it seemed to ease her discomfort a small bit. I found
that smiling in Gabrielle’s presence was becoming easier and wondered if it
would ever feel so natural that I wouldn’t be aware I was doing it.
“I
have business on the docks today and wish to walk, Gabrielle. Do you wish to
join me? It will give you an opportunity to visit the city.” I asked, rising
from the floor.
“Yes,
very much, My Lord.”
*********************
We
walked from the palace, my slave and I, and I should have held no fear that
Gabrielle would find anyone here to trade affections with. The gossip spread
like wildfire and everyone in the palace already knew, not only who this small
blonde was, but also what she meant to me. No one even raised an eye to the
girl, at least while I was beside her, and certainly no one spoke to her.
Hades, the people of Corinth barely acknowledged me, with the exception of
lowering their heads and bowing in respectful submission.
It
made me feel rather sorry for Gabrielle, though, to think this was what her
life had long consisted of. As I overheard her tell Delia, a body slave lived a
lonely life in her master’s household. She was cursed for the master’s bad
temper and even in good times, no one took a chance at being caught speaking
with her. Even in friendship, a casual glance could ignite the jealousy of an
angry and possessive master, such as myself. I do not say, used to be,
for when it comes to Gabrielle, I fear I could fall back into those same fits
of fierce suspicion and controlling behavior that consumed me in my younger
days.
I
felt compelled to reassure Gabrielle in some small way, to assure her that I
would not be lopping her head off if I saw her speaking to someone on the
street. Did I really mean that, however? I had not miraculously grown the heart
of a mystic because of my developing feelings toward my small slave. I was
still at a loss as to what to say to the woman, but there was a need in
me, that was as accurately as I could describe it. It was a need to express
certain emotions I was having concerning Gabrielle. I grew quickly frustrated
as we walked out of the palace gates. I wanted to say so much to her, but I was
completely unaware of how to say it. I wondered if Delia would laugh at my
predicament if I were to go to her for help. I wasn’t completely inarticulate,
however, so I decided to wade right in.
“You…uh,
you look very nice today, Gabrielle…very lovely.” I commented and caught the
surprise in her eyes.
“Thank
you, My Lord. I’m only happy that I please you.” She answered predictably.
It
certainly wasn’t a lie, nor an exaggeration. Gabrielle, with golden hair
falling across her slight shoulders, and the early morning sun filtering
through the strands of hair blowing around her face. She looked absolutely
beautiful. I didn’t even realize I stopped moving until Gabrielle’s eyes lifted
and briefly caught mine.
“Very
lovely, indeed.” I gently tapped two fingers under her chin and was rewarded
with something that was damn close to being a smile. “Wait,” I tilted my head
to see into her eyes, grinning myself. “Is that a smile I see…from my
Gabrielle?” Which made her sort-of smile grow. I couldn’t help chuckling as I
turned and we continued on.
The
palace guard followed in our wake and Gods only know what they thought of our
exchange. I remembered a time when the guard walked out ahead of me, terrorizing
anyone foolish enough to stray into my oncoming path. Now I felt, rather than
saw, their understated presence.
Gabrielle
seemed quite unaccustomed to the people and bustle of a city like Corinth. I
noticed that she began to follow rather closely on my heels as we strolled
along the city streets, toward the docks. I had business today with the Captain
of my fleet. According to two of my closest advisors, the man was running
slaves as one of his little extracurricular activities. I wanted more than hearsay
and gossip, and the truth was, if this man was kidnapping young girls here in
Corinth to sell them in the North as slaves, I wanted to personally show him
how I felt about that.
As
we walked by the prisoners on their way to trial or judgment, many called out
to me for mercy. I can barely remember the time when I would stride past them,
truly unable to hear their cries for leniency. In the last few seasons, it grew
especially hard to ignore their pleas. Now, when I look into their faces, I am
able to see something that touches a part of me that has laid dormant for much
of my life.
We
passed by and I looked at them, chained, or bound, waiting for my wagons to
take them to the large palace dungeons. A small boy, no more than eight or nine
summers, stood watching me rather impassively as I walked by. He looked also at
Gabrielle and I saw the light of compassion burn brightly in her intelligent
emerald gaze. The boy had his hands in front of him, his wrists fastened
together with manacles that were ludicrously large on his small hands. Yet, he
stood there, calmly accepting the fate he could easily have escaped from. I’d
known assassins that young, so it didn’t completely surprise me, a boy that
age, headed for the prison.
We
passed by and I easily caught the movement of Gabrielle’s hand as she slipped
the apple from her pocket and pressed it into the surprised boy’s small grasp.
At first, I was going to shrug it off and ignore my slave’s actions, but what
Gabrielle just did was so unlike her. For her to risk punishment, her reason
for slipping the boy food, an offense any way you looked at it, must mean a
great deal to her. I wanted, no I needed, to learn more about this world in
which my slave existed. Because of that, I stopped, and when I halted,
Gabrielle did the same.
“Gabrielle?”
I asked, not turning to look at her, simply knowing she would be there.
“Yes,
My Lord?” she replied softly. I think she knew the moment I stopped that she
was caught.
“What
was that you just did, Gabrielle?” I asked evenly.
“Please
forgive me, My Lord, I--” she began and I turned and placed two fingers over
her lips to silence her.
“Gabrielle,
I haven’t yet placed blame or even accused you of anything. I only inquired
about your actions.”
She
lowered her head. “I gave the boy the apple I had in my pocket.” She answered
dutifully.
“I
see. Why did you do that, Gabrielle?”
“He…he
looked as if he was hungry, My Lord.”
“Do
you realize, little one, that it is a crime to give prisoners anything, even
food?”
“Yes,
My Lord.” She again answered and I barely heard her response this time.
“So,
knowing that you would be punished, you gave the food to the boy anyway?” I
asked.
When
Gabrielle nodded and answered with a soft affirmative reply, I questioned her
as to why she would perform such a sacrifice. Her answer made me feel
completely oblivious to all that went on around me, in my palace, in my city,
in the whole of my country. It was as if there was a grain of sand at my feet,
and on it existed another world, such as our own. Subsisting, right there at my
feet, all this time.
“He
is only a child, My Lord. No child deserves to be hungry.” She answered.
Anyone
who ever thought Gabrielle a stupid woman, evidently never spent any time with
her at all. I found her insights into the world to be profound, thought
provoking, and tempered with a compassion, I had to admit, I didn’t fully
understand. This last statement was no exception.
I
turned and walked back to where the prisoners stood huddled together. I towered
over the boy and when I asked him his name, he looked up at me in terror. I was
now about to learn my second lesson of the day, when it came to how others
perceived me. I felt a hand on my forearm and turned to see my small slave
waiting for permission to speak. I arched an eyebrow at her and she understood
my unspoken communication. She leaned up on her tiptoes and I leaned down,
closer to her. She spoke softly into my ear.
“My
Lord, I think…I think maybe you are a great deal like your stallion, Tenorio.”
She hurried on when I looked at her in complete confusion. “To people of a much
smaller stature, you can be somewhat…imposing, thereby…well, intimidating.”
Always
amazed at the young woman, she was quickly becoming one of my best, and most
trusted, advisors. I took the hint and turned back to the boy, easing myself
down to one knee until my head was even with his.
“Do
you have a name, boy?” I asked again.
“P--Petra,
Lord Conqueror.” The boy answered my question.
“Why
do you wear the chains of a prisoner, Petra?”
“I
was caught stealing food, Lord Conqueror.”
“Food
does seem to be the topic today,” I looked back at Gabrielle in amusement and
she bowed her head. “So, Petra…why does a boy your age need to steal food?
Don’t your mother and father feed you well enough?”
“It
wasn’t for me, Lord Conqueror, it was for my mother and two sisters. My father
was a soldier in the Lord Conqueror’s army, but he was killed in the battle of
Chaeronea. My mother is sick and can’t work, and my baby sisters need food to
eat. I’m sorry, Lord Conqueror,” the boy said, valiantly holding back his
tears. “I didn’t know what else to do. I tried to join the Lord Conqueror’s
army, to earn money for food, but the soldiers laughed at me.”
I
tried to show no emotion as the boy told his tale. It seemed so melodramatic I
wasn’t sure if I was being set up or not. “Where do you live, boy?”
When
the small boy pointed back into the palace gates, I was taken back.
“You
live within the walls of the palace? Who is your mother a hired woman for?” I
asked, and then proceeded to look even more confused.
“Why…she
works for you, Lord Conqueror.” He replied, looking at me as if I just told him
sheep could fly.
Now
I was not only confused, but angry too. With my country enjoying such
prosperity, were there really children within the very walls of my own palace,
going hungry?
“Jailer!”
I shouted and the man was at my side in an instant. “Remove this boy’s chains.”
I ordered.
Once
free, I motioned to the boy with my hand. “Show me where you live, boy.” I said
and suddenly we were all following Petra back through the palace gates.
*********************
I knew the small village style houses that existed in cramped rows at the south end of the palace gates, were small and overcrowded. I was in no way, however, prepared for the intolerable conditions when I entered the boy’s home. It was obvious that someone made the attempt to create a living space within the confines of the small room. What few furnishings were there, had been scrubbed clean, but the rats that ran within the walls, went from house to house, carrying their filth and disease wherever they went.
I
felt precariously out of my element, standing in the middle of the small room.
My height was a definite hazard as my head nearly grazed the ceiling. Petra led
me to a small pallet where a slender woman lay, in obvious pain and fever. I
kneeled down to look at the woman, and although she probably only had a touch
of the chills, it could be fatal without proper care and nutrition. I fancied
myself rather knowledgeable when it came to healing, but that was a great many
seasons ago. I became more adept at treating battle wounds than illness, so I
did the only I could think to do, when feeling this helpless. I called on
Gabrielle.
“Gabrielle?”
I turned, and it seemed that the helpless tone of my voice and the look in my
eye, conveyed all that my young slave needed to know.
Spurred
into action, Gabrielle gave Petra instructions to fetch a pail of fresh
drinking water, not from the well the other houses used, but from the one
nearer the gates. By the time the boy rushed back, I merely stood in the corner
and watched as Gabrielle requested items she would need. She took a quill and
parchment from one of my messengers and made a list in a careful and precise
handwriting. The messenger looked on in awe at my young slave. I doubt he’d
ever seen one that could write before.
Gabrielle
looked up at me. “My Lord, we will need dinars for some herbs and fresh food.”
I
nodded and walked out of the house, noticing the small crowd of attention we
were drawing. I’m sure the inhabitants of the neighboring houses thought
something miraculous was happening, given that I was there. I grabbed one of my
guards and dragged him into the house, pushing him in front of Gabrielle.
I
must say it was amazing to watch, and had I been less redeemed, I would have
taken the girl’s head off for her forward behavior and presumptuous manner.
Gabrielle was ordering people about like…well, like she was me! She looked up
at the guard before her.
“Can
you read?” she asked.
If
any other slave had asked that question, she would have been scoffed at, or
beaten to the ground. My palace guards were a snobby bunch given their station
in the palace, so they would be just the men to do it, too. On this day,
however, we were all too astounded at the small slave’s behavior to question
her. The tone of authority in Gabrielle’s voice as she took charge of the
scenario simply confounded them all, myself included.
The
guard nodded dumbly, then added, “Yes, Miss.”
“Take
this list to the market and the apothecary and return straightaway with the
supplies.” She ordered.
The
guard took the list and was about to hurry out the door to do her bidding when
he realized, with horror, who he was taking orders from. He quickly turned to
me and I saw the blood had nearly drained from the young man’s face.
“Yes,
go, go!” I waved him off with my hand, trying to make it appear like I agreed
with everything Gabrielle was doing. In truth, I hadn’t an inkling.
Gabrielle
put two large kettles on the fire to heat water and I now realized it was my
turn. I was feeling a little useless, so why not heap a little humiliation on
top of it, right?
“Um…Gabrielle…what…”
I lowered my voice so no one outside could hear me. “What do you want me to do?”
I could only pray to Athena that I didn’t sound as pathetic to her as I did to
my own ears.
“Would
you…” she paused as if she were reconsidering the request. “Would you take the
children outside?” she asked timidly, waiting for my roar, I’m sure.
I
arched one eyebrow just about as high as it would go. I looked at my feet and
two young girls stood there, appearing as if they were looking up a mountain.
Neither of them came past my knees and one smiled broadly up at me. She wrapped
her arms around my leg and laid her cheek against the trouser clad limb. I
froze.
“Me?”
I said weakly. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn that Gabrielle
smiled just before she turned back to the fire.
When
she turned back my way, she came closer and whispered under her breath. “I need
to bathe her and remove the soiled linen and clothes, My Lord. The children
shouldn’t see that.”
She
calmly waited for my decision and I even thought about grabbing one of the
palace guards, and forcing them to play babysitter. Two things stopped me. One,
I have never, in my entire life, asked a soldier to do something that I myself
was unwilling or unable to do. Secondly, there was the tiny girl with her arms
still wrapped tightly around my leg. I was amazed that something so small could
frighten me so completely. She looked at me in a way I have never been gazed
upon before. She had no idea, no preconceived notions of who I was or what I
was capable of, no knowledge of what horrible things made up my past. I was
looking upon that grain of sand again and seeing a completely new world.
I
sighed and gave my best smirk to Gabrielle. I bent down and scooped the larger
girl up into my arms. I didn’t have to reach down for the other one. She
wrapped herself around my leg and when I tried to walk, it was as if my leg was
immobilized. I limped toward the door with my charges.
“Come
on, Boy,” I called to Petra, as I limped through the doorway.
I
could only hope that one of my officers didn’t pass by. If anyone like Atrius
saw me in this position, I would have to run him through. I hate to lose good
soldiers that way.
Chapter 8: Conqueror…Warrior…Babysitter?