The Storyteller

The following is a bit of alternative fiction based on certain characters from the Xenaverse. It is not meant to infringe on anyone else's rights. If you don't agree or disapprove, please go read something else.

This story is based on ideas from Armageddon 2, a Hercules' episode. You might want to watch that first for some background, although, I think it can be read without viewing the episode. In this universe, Hercules never existed.

The woman hung limply upon the rack of her suffering. She was one in a field of many. The crosses spanned acres and acres of the countryside. The kin of those who were dead or barely alive moved as silently amongst the awful crop as those who came to steal what small fortunes could be made upon the dead. Not all were innocent, who were hung up to suffer so, not all were guilty either. The sun shown upon them all equally, but it made the woman's red hair sparkle almost golden. Too bad there was no one there to appreciate it, save the one who paused beneath her to tell her a small tale.
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The cross is a fearsome way to die. It's long, painful and crushing. A person suffocates and drowns upon their own life forces eventually. The broken legs are actually a mercy, for they sped up the process. Most people faint from the pain of it (though she was tough and remained conscious enough to hear the wretch talk). Such punishment was based on the whim of She Who Conquered. It was *her* version of justice that so many should be made to suffer. . .as she suffered.

It was said that, Caesar of Rome had betrayed the conqueror at one time. She'd captured him while sailing the high seas and he'd seduced her with promises of future glories and enduring friendship. He said it was destiny. She was young and had believed. So it was, that the conqueror let Caesar go for a goodly ransom and rejoiced, at first, upon his return.

But he betrayed her, slew her people and hung her out with the rest of the survivors, upon crosses like the one the woman occupied now. Caesar had the despot's legs shattered, this was before she was a despot of course, so she would die a quicker death.
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The pained questioning glance thrown his way made for his opening. He considered himself a fair teller after all. Ah, yes, the question. How did she survive? Well, Couldn't let this one . .hang. .in suspense, now could he. He might lose his profit that way.
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The sovereign was rescued, by a woman named M'Lila, (may her name be cursed) and taken to a high mountain. Upon Caesar's order, his men followed. They were slaughtered to a man. No one knows what turned Xena, though perhaps it was madness from having her legs crushed so, but she declared death for everyone who opposed her that day and a new order for the world.

Hers.

So she went, becoming more cruel as time went on. There are some from a far land who say *she* is given to the odd kindness or two. She wasn't always this way, AND Her commands were always to spare the women and children (but the perhaps that was so her men could make sport with them. Most have seen more of her cruelty than her kindness, after all.) Somewhere she found someone to heal her legs, though the madness stayed.

One day, as she went conquering, she met Caesar again.

They say, Caesar cried out more loudly than the Conqueror when his legs were shattered in front of his men. Perhaps he cried out from the dying of his dream, for it is well known that under most circumstances he was a man of great courage. It hadn't been enough for the Empress, however, his suffering had lasted too short a span.

One of his own had taken Caesar's life for him, throwing a dagger into his breast.

Of course, that fool and his comrades had suffered the same fate as his liege, without the benefit of a knife to cure their ill. Now, because of his foolishness, everyone suffered for his kindness.

So much for destinies.
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The story of Caesar's martyrdom and his "rescue," was often cited by the crosswalkers. For a fee they would end a body's misery with a simple toss of the knife or jab of a spear. There was, however, no one present to pay her fee and there was nothing of worth that she could give him. She clung to what little life she had left.

The man had shrugged and walked off. Oh well, he'd come back later and get what was his when she was dead. He just liked to have a contract first. Made it feel less like stealing.

So she hung and endured all the rest of that long day, but as the walker told her the story she thought, "I've never heard that one before." It was the first time she realized that the dictator might have a reason, a motivation for being the despot that she was. Her mind began spinning with the possibilities of what she could have done, if she'd known just that one bit of information before all of this had begun and in the whirl of her thoughts her soul briefly freed itself from the burden that was her pain.

A seering came upon her, (as it sometimes did when her consciousness started wandering) where she saw play out in her inner eye the wounds that had been Xena's to suffer, even feeling, for a moment the shattering of her legs and the rough escape to a healer's hut, all through the Conquerors eyes. For a moment she was one with the cause of Xena's madness and she knew with a certainty what could have been done to change it all and that she was *not* alone in that failure. There had been another, more gracious and refined than she, who'd tried.

That was when she actually began to mourn her fate, for she realized, she'd gone about the matter of helping the people ALL wrong. Her failure weighed more upon her than her body upon her broken legs. Her wrenching cry shattered across the field and held more agony than when her legs had been smashed, for there was Nothing she could do about it now. There was no effort she could make. She would never get the chance to set things right.

The cry was so loud and so pained, it was heard in the castle and Xena actually lifted her head for a moment. She smiled with cold pleasure. That piercing noise was exactly the reason she had the crosses mounted just outside of Corinth. Then again, she'd never heard so desperate a cry since. . .Her mind traced back to one time. Caesar. A yes. She recognized that tone. Someone felt their destiny wasn't met. Too bad. The conqueror went back to listening to yet another oaf who felt money was as important to her as it was to him.
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Gabrielle had thought, with the final surrender of her consciousness, that she had seen her last sunset, so her awakening astonished her. Everything felt wrong. Her whole body ached. Though, she supposed, that made sense. She was, after all, suspended upon a cross. Hmph, she thought, it felt very comfortable for a cross.

A hand touched her face and she tried to open her eyes, but the lids felt too heavy. She murmured softly, talking more to herself than to her beneficent illusion. "There's a way . . .a way. . ." Liquid, oh glorious moisture, poured upon her thirsty mouth and she drank the bitter concoction without flinching.

Then there was pain, excruciatingly vivid misery, the kind that sets one instantly to consciousness. She felt the pressure of hands upon her legs, then agonizing stretches and pulls. She screamed and screamed and her mind photographed the moment and compared with the images in the seering.

She'd been through this before.

Someone had rescued her.

A bliss, so complete, it overcame her agony filled her body and she laughed with the joy of it. Her peasant heart expanded with true hope. A chance had been provided.

Then she screamed again.
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The blonde was lithe like a cat, almost skinny, and she listened quietly to the bitter arguments waged by her sisters. She leaned against the post by the door to the invalid's room. No doubt the courageous woman was hearing every word, but she wasn't of the tribe, so she couldn't join in the conversation. Callisto, lover of Terreis, however, was Amazon and their ranks were slowly, quietly growing.

"She's crazy. Can't even walk and she wants us to take her into that viper's nest?" Ephiny spat out bitterly. Her blonde curls bobbled with the vehemence of the statement.

Melosa's reasoned voice interrupted, "The priestess was clear." There was some groaning from the less worshipful of the sisters, "We must suffer under Xena's rule as it stands or Xena must change. Her rule as is, is horrible enough, but If she is assassinated the world will fall into chaos and a dark age will come upon the world. There is none to take her place or who will rule," Melosa's face twisted at the irony,"as kindly," She reminded, "Gabrielle has offered a new possibility. We can not deny her the path she must take if there is a chance it will work. Gabrielle spoke of a way, while she was visioning upon the cross. Our sister, who was besides her, heard all. That makes two witnesses. Our sister," She winced in memory of Eponin's anguished cry as her legs were set. At least hers would heal correctly. The other, Gabrielle,. . .had not been so fortunate. Melosa's strong face turned sad, "who is yet healing, and the priestess."

Terreis slipped an arm around Callisto's waist and smiled reassuringly. Ephiny continued her bitter conversation. "She wants to 'rescue' that woman. She says the
Gods have shown her the way. We should just slit the cripple's throat now and be done with it for her compassion will get her killed anyway." Gods, she hated wasting their time. "There's no rescuing Xena. No one can redeem her. It's not possible."

Callisto moved abruptly from Terreis' grasp and into Ephiny's space, "How do you know what's possible?" she ground out. She was highly sensitive to this issue. But for chance, her own path would have been much different. Her heart still held the bitterness caused by the one who ruled the known world, but it was softened by the love of the Amazons who rescued her. "Who can say who can be saved and who can not? Only the Gods. Only the fates. If nothing else," Ephiny looked like she was about to argue, but Callisto stalled her with a hand and continued on reasonably, "IF nothing else, Gabrielle has promised, if she survives and if Xena does not change, to serve our needs."

"We'll have a way in." Ephiny clued and nodded, "Yes. A way." Then she turned to Melosa, "But there must be a limit too."

Melosa nodded wisely, "That is just. I will discuss it with the other leaders and let you know what is to be done."
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The pain in her legs made it almost unbearable to move, but Gabrielle hobbled forth with determination. They were barely healed, in fact, the healer was certain they were not. But, the healer had to acknowledge, this was probably as good as it was going to get. Gabrielle would live with the pain for the rest of her life.

The healer gave her draughts for the easing of her suffering, to be used as sparingly as she could. Gabrielle now knew more about herbs than she'd ever intended to learn. There were some things she could take that would help, but the hurt never went away. It sometimes got, to where she thought of leaving this life, but she had a goal in mind and set aside such impulses.

Another time, another place.

For now, she would live

and endure.

An Amazon gave her a long thick staff to lean upon and she did, pausing often to rest and catch her breath. "It's a war staff," Callisto said, "used for defense." Gabrielle didn't think she would need much defending. She would either live or die in facing Xena and, truth be told, *if* she lived there would be nothing left for her to fear.

Though she couldn't hide her lameness, she knew she must appear strong if her plan was to succeed. Xena respected strength and death. One only had to watch the gladiators for a bit. Gabrielle determined, that though she walked with halted labored step, she would be as strong as a gladiator and as brave as the Amazons who'd taken her in. So she walked slowly, hugging the staff to her and staying as upright as her legs would allow and with sheer force of will she made her destination.

An Amazon's sister worked as a scullery maid within the estate. It was she who opened the doors to Gabrielle's tortured entrance. "Thank you," the seer had said, but there was no one to thank. The young woman had disappeared into the confines of the castle. It was up to the Gabrielle now.

Quietly she unfolded the map she'd been given. She scanned it for the umteenth time. Then, having found her bearings, she made her way through darkened hallways to find Xena's inner rooms.
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The bath had been refreshing. Her body felt clean. Her skin felt invigorated from the thorough toweling she'd received she'd received. The aura of flowers sweetened her own delicious scent. Her hair hung past her waist, neatly trimmed and finely combed. The robe swam silkenly about her legs and brushed against her the slope of her foot.

She knew something was out of place the moment she stepped into her bedroom. There was no need to call the guard. The intruder would be dead soon enough, then she'd find another room to sleep in while this one was aired out and the body removed. First, however, she wanted to see who dared enter.

The figure was hooded and cloaked. Female, by scent, which was surprisingly pleasant considering she was dressed as a peasant and they usually stank of too much life. She sat upon a stool in the middle of the floor. Soft red hair peeked out from the hood, though her face was hidden. A staff was embraced in both hands, it's root was firmly planted upon the floor.

Xena kept it casual. "How did you get in here?" She wandered past the sitting figure to her bed. The figure turned, following her without moving from the stool. She unwrapped the robe and let it fall into a colorful heap at her feet. Even after all of those battles, her body was still beautiful. There were scars, but not that many, considering and she was lean and muscular. Olive skin contrasted with ebony curls and tresses. It was much easier to clean a body of blood, than clothes.

"I bribed someone."

Oh, bonus, an honest one. Xena would make the woman's death quick. Blue eyes flashed intelligently as she sat upon the bed and leaned back. "You didn't happen to catch the name did you?"

There was a chuckle, "Of the one who let me in? No." She answered the next question before it was even given. Her voice was sweet and it held a familiar ring, "It was dark."

"Ah," said the Empress knowingly, "I guess I'll have to increase security." The figure relaxed and moved the war staff to a more reclining position. Only one hand now. Oh good.

"You? The Warrior Princess, a one woman army" the cloaked one snorted, "Hardly."

Xena smoothed a false bump on her quilt, "Then you know your fate?" the Conqueror asked.

The hooded one cocked her head to the side. The ambient light revealed pale skin and soft lips, "Know it? That depends. I know I am supposed to be here now and why, but not all of life's mysteries get revealed to me."

Xena smirked, "A prophet then. I've seen many those. They're all fools. They either suck up to me or the prophesy doom and gloom."

The empress could hear the smirk, "Then I prophesy for you. You'll live if you don't die." The figure shifted and her skirts rustled pleasantly.

A joke. This one dared to joke with her. Oh, honest and brave, a rare combination in Xena's world. The Empress actually laughed and when she stopped, she asked.

"So," Xena sat up, preparing herself, "Why are you here?"

A hand lifted and grasped the hood. The woman's face was revealed as she spoke her answer, "I am here to ease your suffering."

The Tyrant stood up in shock, "YOU!" Then she her voice turned mocking, "You've come to kill me?" The purpose of the staff was suddenly clear. Xena had seen the blow herself after all.

Xena's derision and accusation was turned back on her, "and how would I accomplish that?" The seer stood up on wobbly legs. Her back was straight, but it her green eyes held deep pain. She remained standing, "I've come to tell you a story Warrior Princess."

The way she phrased the statement caught Xena's attention and moved her from astonishment to curiosity. Usually, the name was said with asperity or in a kind of
awe. This one just said it as if it were her name. Xena jumped and flipped to the agitator's side. "I remember you. I had you hung on the cross. You should be dead." Her presence was menacing and she gazed at the woman with feral eyes."

"I was rescued." There was the tiniest of flinches.

Xena's hand wrapped around the woman's neck easily, "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you." She liked to ask this question, since it never stopped her from doing exactly what she wanted.

"You're bored and not sleeping well." It was a statement of fact, given as if from one who knows.

The Empress' breath was violently hot against the woman's ear. Her whisper was cold. Xena's hand wrapped in red gold and pulled lightly. The woman trembled, "Did your dreams tell you that prophet?"

Where Gabrielle found her bravery, she didn't know. But she felt the courage rise in her. There were only two options left and nothing left to fear. "Only the bored relish the pain of others and your eyes are blackened from lack of rest." She turned, as much as she could to face the woman, "My stories would help, at least sometimes."

"I'm not a child to be soothed by stories." Xena groused, but her fingers loosened their grasp upon Gabrielle's neck. Her breathing felt less harsh.

"Then I will tell you adult stories," Gabrielle reasoned. She winced as her hair was pulled once more.

"Don't mock me."

"Never," Gabrielle avowed.

There was sudden, vicious glint in Xena's eyes. She roughly pushed the woman down upon the stool. "I'll tell you what," said the Empress, "I'll give you a chance. You tell me a story. If I get bored, I'll kill you. If I don't, you'll come see me tomorrow night and we'll play the game again." She kicked at the woman's leg and she cried out with pain, even leaking tears. The agitator bent over and grasped her legs protectively, not that she could do much to defend them now. The staff clattered to the ground. "Oh? Did that hurt?"

"Yes," the woman gasped through clenched teeth. It's funny how one severe hurt can send every part of the body into an immediate ache.

Xena leaned down. Her teeth were white and her azure eyes sparkle evilly, "Well remember that the next time you're up on a cross and decide to come down. You understand?" There was another gasp and a speechless nod.

Xena didn't bother getting in the bed. She had no plan to fall asleep during the story. She was only listening to see if she how fast she got bored. She bored easily. The woman was already dead, this was just part of the game. Xena had even been "nice," and had given the would be bard her staff back. Couldn't have the storyteller falling.

Especially since Xena was going to make Gabrielle stand.

Gabrielle. It was a peasant's name, but it had a nice ring to it. Xena waved the
woman to start and settled back upon the coverlet. "So," she said, "Tell me a story."

Gabrielle took a deep breath. She looked at the naked woman and quivered inside, but whether it was fear or her body's instinctive acknowledgement of Xena's seductive beauty the she did not know. Not that, with these legs, she would ever have to worry about it. She closed her eyes and composed herself, then opened them and was no longer present as the peasant or as the lame.

"I sing a song of a Hero,
Stronger than the strongest man
And kind.
I sing of one whose mighty
Hand changed the course of a whole world.
I sing of Hercules, son of Zeus."

It was fiction, pure fiction. She made it up entirely, the concept, the name, all of it, spur of the moment. It was a story of someone so heroic and so bold, it could only be told. It could never experienced. The story felt so real and was delivered so powerfully, however, that it captured the attention of one who was jaded and hardened to the world.

Xena lost herself in the story, forgetting for a moment that she was the Warrior Princess, Empress of all lands. For a moment, the weight of that responsibility, the WHOLE world, lifted off of her shoulders. The prophet weaved a tale of magic and of battle and monsters and Gods that was so colorful and complete Xena could almost see it. It was like being in a battle itself. The bard, for truly she was, brought the story to resounding impossible dramatic conclusion that just. . felt. .right. It took everything Xena had to maintain her neutral expression.

There was a long long silence after the story was completed. Gabrielle's legs pulsated with pain, but she didn't sit. Xena's expression had been bored throughout the whole telling. The bard closed her eyes and bowed her head in defeat. She'd had her chance, and blown it, just as surely as the first time. She deserved the cross now and would go willingly.

Xena's voice broke through the haze of self flagellation, "You'll stay here tonight. I wouldn't want you to miss our appointment." The bard lifted her head in astonishment. Xena smirked, "I might be cruel, but I keep my promises." The words made something flutter in Gabrielle's belly. "Be here, same time, tomorrow. This time *I'll* take care of the guards." The bard nodded dumbly and sat abruptly on the stool with relief.

"Well?" Xena raised her eyebrows, and Gabrielle stared at her blankly. Then, the Empress' smile turned seductive, "Oh, were you planning on sleeping with me too?" The purr in her voice indicated much more than sleeping, "Should I make that part of our bargain?"

Gabrielle was up and standing so abruptly that Xena wasn't sure whether to be offended or to laugh. And the expression on her face . . .oh that was rich! Xena stood and turned away, another test, "Tell the guard I said to give you the room next to mine. The clean one. He'll know which."

Gabrielle nodded again, still blushing from Xena's comment. As if! She watched, briefly as Xena picked up the corner of the bedspread and lifted it. She kneeled upon the mattress. Her breasts swayed gently. The sable color of Xena's hair fanned downward. Gabrielle was suddenly aware of just how gorgeous this deadly woman was. "You *are* beautiful." The words slipped out, unbidden.

Xena paused, then slid between the covers. "Thank you." She nodded regally, but she was done with this, "Now go!" It was an order not to be defied and her expression said so. The bard had already pressed her luck. Gabrielle went, slowly and painfully.

It wasn't until she was outside the room and safely behind a closed door that she realized.
She was still Alive!
Now it was time to prepare for tomorrow's battle.

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Gabrielle slept with her pain.

She'd learned how to do it. After all, the herbs didn't always work to soothe her distress and she just didn't trust that concoction that the healer had given her. It made her feel too. .too. .blurry, and though she'd had some available in her cloak, she just didn't want to chance it this night. Not yet.

She'd learned to prop her legs on pillows. That sometimes helped and there were plenty available in the luxuriously provided room. One thing about being guested by the empress of the known world. She didn't stint.

Gabrielle was on time for their next "appointment." Xena had made sure of that.
The servants had arrived early. The agitator, turned seer, turned bard had found herself being washed and primped and perfumed by a man named Vidalis. He'd had, at first, some silly notion about creating a beautiful presentation of Gabrielle, but when he saw her walk on those tortured legs. . .he'd made some adjustments.

"Beauty is in the mind," he'd said. "We'll just work around it." Then, his efforts, though touched with acerbic and wry wit, had been driving, yet compassionate. He was adamant that those "fishwives'" manners of hers disappear. . .all within the span of the day.

It was, Vidalis admitted later, an impossible task. "Well," he'd puffed, "We'll try again tomorrow." He then proceeded to call in some very muscular guards, "take her to Our Sovereign's bedroom." He wasn't going to judge her majesty's tastes, but really. . .They grabbed her arms and started to pull her roughly. He slapped a muscular arm, "ooh." he'd said, losing track for a moment then remembering what he was going to say, "NOT that way. Lift Gabrielle up, gently." He handed one of them the staff, "and take this with you. Give it to her," he pointed at Gabrielle, "when you arrive. She know what to do with it."

He'd then gave her a genuine smile, "You know, I don't know what you did last night," He raised a hand, "and I don't want to know, but whatever it was. . .Xena was in such a good mood she actually let the chef live this morning. We all thank you. This one at least has some sense of how to use spices. Now go. . .and do it again. I like the notion of having a decent set of meals for more than one day."

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Gabrielle waited, feeling more patient than she expected. Actually she took advantage of the moment to rest. Her legs weren't quite so sore now, but she expected to be standing again. She fingered the robe she'd been given it was blue flowers on white silk. Quite lovely actually. It hid her legs efficiently and was soft to the touch. The fabric felt good against her skin and was soothing to more than her legs. Her nipples kept perking up, but she ignored that.

She was, as before, facing the door. Xena saw her immediately. Her eyes narrowed, "tired?"

"I have poor manners, but a good teacher." The phrasing of the statement saved Vidalis' life. Plus, it helped that Gabrielle smiled. She had a very nice one.

"Ah, yes." Xena walked around the bard again, "Well, manners will keep you alive in strange places." It was, Gabrielle, a very odd statement to make. Xena seemed to believe it however.

"I'll remember that." It occurred to Gabrielle that she'd already broken one of Vidalis' rules about speaking before spoken to. Oh well, she couldn't go back now. She broached the question she'd had on her mind since early that morning, "Xena?" That got the empress' attention. No one called her by her first name anymore, save in chants. She debated lopping off the woman's head, then decided to do it after the story. She wanted to see what Gabrielle would come up with.

Xena's robe fell to the floor again. Gabrielle swallowed. Was the empress trying to drive her crazy? A dark eyebrow arched provocatively, "Yes?" she asked as she sat upon the bed's surface. Gabrielle tried not to let her gaze lower and smiled deliberately.

"Is there any particular kind of story you'd like to hear?"

Xena grinned, "Give me something with blood and guts. I liked that Hercules guy. Tell me another one."

Gabrielle's eyelid twitched. Then she nodded, "As you wish." She deliberately left out the honorific. Xena had too many people who were more interested in her title, than in her person and besides, story telling was kind of a personal art. The Warrior Princess didn't seem to notice.

The red head stood up on crooked legs and proceed to tell a straightforward story. Her voice was mellifluous and she always paused at just the right moment. Her hand, the one that wasn't gripped tightly around the staff, moved as part of the telling. She looked Xena in the eye, never flinching, save when the story called for it. The tale itself was engrossing and somewhat humorous. Cupid as jealous lover and green monster. Xena laughed, despite herself, and that cold face she'd put on at the start had dropped to that of . . .the person who was inside.

When the telling was done, Xena stood up. Gabrielle had managed never to look down. Xena turned away from her, "I will see you tomorrow night." The bard was excused.