by Leslie Ann Miller
Disclaimers- The characters of Xena and Gabrielle
belong to Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended.
Violence - Yes, some. Nothing worse than what you'd see in the show.
Subtext / sex - Yes, this story depicts sexual acts between women. If that is illegal where you are, or it gives you the willies, you should try reading something else.
Hurt / Comfort - Yes
Other - This story is loosely based on the Hercules episode "Armageddon Now"
Thanks - I'm especially grateful to Fizz for all the help. Also thanks to Ellen and the ex-guards for their feedback and assistance.
Let me know what you think, good or bad! My email address is: Gunhilda@ionet.net
"Why are you here, Gabrielle?" Xena asked crossly.
It was the first time she'd spoken since she'd asked about Amphipolis nine days ago. It was also the first time she'd ever used my name. To be honest, I didn't think she remembered it, and I hadn't cared to remind her.
"As I've told you before, I'm recording the events of the war for the future. I want to tell your history, as well as Alexander's."
She laughed and turned around to face me before sitting down. "But my history is well documented."
"From your warlord days forward, perhaps," I agreed. "But not before then. Where are you from, Xena? Where were you born?"
She gave me that predatory look again, and smiled.
I braced myself. That look was never good, and I wondered how she planned to try to hurt me this time.
"Are you a virgin?" she asked sweetly.
Uh-oh. I knew I was in trouble here. "Why do you care?"
"Oh, just curious. You have a certain air of innocence about you…." She waved her hand as if to dismiss the idea. She leaned back against the bars of her cell, legs spread wide, watching my reaction closely.
I could almost feel what was coming next, and I wanted nothing more than to flee, to run up those stairs and leave her alone in the darkness. But she would have considered that a victory, and I was not willing to let her defeat me again.
She was wearing only a short tattered tunic. She raised her knees up, and pulled the tunic above her hips.
I looked away, embarrassed.
Xena laughed. "You are a virgin, aren't you? How old were you when I had you crucified? Nineteen? Twenty?"
Her cheek twitched for a moment in what I thought might be pity….but no, the Destroyer of Nations would know no remorse.
She clicked her tongue. "Seventeen. So young. So sweet. I bet the boys fawned over you in Potidaea."
"There were no boys in Potidaea. Most of them were forced to serve as rowers in your navy."
"Ah yes, I had forgotten." She massaged one of her breasts with a hand. "No boys there to pleasure sweet Gabrielle. What a loss. And then in Corinth. What were you doing in Corinth, Gabrielle?"
"Trying to find my betrothed, Perdicus."
"Betrothed? An arranged marriage?"
"Did you love him?"
I thought for a moment, then nodded again.
"Did you find him?"
"He died chained to an oar on a trireme in the Battle of Carpathos."
"A glorious death, then, in a glorious battle."
"I see nothing glorious in drowning as a slave, dragged to the bottom of the Cretan Sea by your chains."
Xena looked annoyed at this, and I hoped for a moment I had successfully distracted her from her course. I should have known better.
"And what of pretty boy Alexander? When did you meet him?"
"In Macedonia, on my way to Corinth."
"Ah, and when you reached Corinth, you joined the traitors?"
I smiled despite myself. "Actually, we didn't join the uprising until after you crucified me. The rest, as they say, is history."
Xena pursed her lips, and touched herself between her legs. "Is he your lover, Gabrielle? Is that why he came to your rescue?"
I sighed. This is what I had been expecting, but it took her long enough to get to the point. "No, Xena, Alexander has never been my lover. He came to my rescue because he knew I was innocent, and he abhors injustice. His heart is given to Hephaestion. I am but his poet and historian."
Xena laughed. "Oh, now that's rich. Poor Gabrielle. And no one would have you after you lost your leg, now would they? Not even the desperate soldiers in the army, I dare say. They don't like to be reminded of missing limbs… the fear is far too real for them."
She continued when she realized I wasn't going to reply. "Have you ever pleasured yourself, Gabrielle, imagining that you were with someone else?" Her hand began to massage herself more firmly.
I swallowed. I was expecting the taunting and the hurtful words, but not this. I didn't know what to think.
"Do you ever writhe on your bed at night, pretending to be whole?" She stripped off her tunic with a fluid motion, revealing her entire body.
I'm sure I must have gaped. I felt… breathless. Even after nearly a year in prison, she was stunningly beautiful
She licked her lips. "Do you ever touch yourself here?" She pinched an erect nipple between two fingers. "Or here?" She gently stroked her other breast. "Or here?" she asked in a husky voice. Her fingers strayed to the shadow between her legs.
I felt dizzy. My heart was racing. What was wrong with me? I thought I should probably leave now, prudence being the better part of valor, but I simply couldn't tear my eyes away from the amazing woman in front of me.
She was arching her back against the bars of her cage now, one hand kneading her breast, the other massaging her swollen mound. She closed her eyes and began to thrust her hips in rhythm to her strokes. "Mmmmmmmmm," she moaned, and her skin began to glisten with perspiration in the torchlight.
It was certainly hot in the cell. Odd, that I hadn't noticed it before, but I was burning up.
Xena moaned again and quickened her pace. "Oh Gods!" she groaned as a spasm rocked her body. Her pace was frantic now, and she ground her body into her hand. Another spasm contracted her limbs; and her head flew back in ecstasy. "Gabrielle!" she cried. "Oh gods, oh gods!" Her whole body shuddered with a force so great it rattled her chains all the way to the crank.
I sat there frozen as she seemed to come back down to earth. Another shudder, a blissful sigh. She removed her hand from between her legs, and I could see it was dripping with fluid. She opened her eyes again, and looked at me. Slowly, she licked her wet fingers. Finally, she finished and cocked her head to one side, grinning.
"You should see the expression on your face," she said. "Definitely worth the effort."
My mouth snapped shut.
She laughed. "You know, you really should try it sometime. Maybe you wouldn't be so stiff and formal all the time."
I was dumbfounded.
"What, a poet at a loss for words? Surely you have something to say."
"You're beautiful," I finally managed. It was all I could think of, the one thought in my head.
Whatever she had been expecting, it apparently wasn't this.
It was my turn to laugh. "You should see the expression on your face."
She smiled. "You are too."
I swallowed. "Good-bye, Xena," I finally said, standing. My leg felt weak, and I stumbled on the stairs on my way up. What game was she playing? Why had she said that? I simply did not understand her motivation.
I awoke later that night in a sweat, the memories of a dream slipping from my mind. Xena had been in it, naked, sprawling.
"Have you ever touched yourself here?" she whispered. "Or here?" My fingers strayed, touching myself. "Or here?" I moaned, then lost myself in ecstasy, the image of Xena filling my mind.
"So, it took you three days to accurately record our last little encounter?" Xena quipped when I finally went to see her again.
I know I blushed furiously, but I simply hadn't been able to face her again the next day.
"I'm not here to record your present, Xena, just your past."
"Too bad," she replied cryptically.
I wasn't sure what to say next, but decided to try starting at the beginning again. "Where were you born, Xena?"
"I think about you in the dark," she said.
Oh no, not again.
"I think about what it would be like to touch you…."
I stood up. "I'm not interested in hearing about your fantasies, Xena. Good-bye."
I reached the bottom of the stairs when I heard her say, "Wait."
"Please," she said.
Please? That could not have been an easy word for her to say. I turned around.
"If I tell you where I'm from, will you talk to me for a while?"
"I'm from Corcyra."
Corcyra. It was a fair sized island off the coast of Epirus in the Ionian Sea. It was possible, I supposed, but something in her manner made me suspicious. "Who were your parents?" I asked.
"Oh no," she said. "The deal was, I tell you where I'm from, and you talk to me. What news from pretty-boy Alexander?"
"The supply ship isn’t due for another day. I haven't heard anything new."
"Then recite some of your poetry."
"Very well," I agreed, and moved back to the bench. "This one is entitled, 'My Muse.'
Xena made a face when I finished. "What kind of poetry is that? It has no form, no structure. It doesn't even rhyme!"
I laughed. "Alexander didn't like it, either. In fact, I haven't found anyone yet who does."
"So tell me a poem that pretty-boy does like."
I sighed, and launched into a recitation of my lengthy poem about Athena's birth and rise to power on Olympus.
When I was finished, Xena snorted. "I don’t care much for the topic, but I can tell it was well done."
Was that a complement? "You’re not really from Corcyra, are you?"
The muscles in her jaw clenched, and her eyes narrowed. "Are you accusing me of lying?"
"Lying, cheating, murdering," I shrugged.
"I’d like to murder you!"
"Why don’t you tell me the truth, instead?"
"You can go rot in Tartarus," she hissed.
I was tired of her temper tantrum. "Good-bye Xena," I said, standing.
To be continued in part 5
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