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.
Xex Alert: Yes, there definitely is, between two women even.
The patron placed the money in the plate, same as everyone else. It was quiet in the room and the light from the window dropped deep shadows elongated shadows upon the bed and the bare wood floor. The coverlets were worn, but clean. The air smelled of wood and sweet candle scents and was spiced the woman's own scent, which was richer than the room could ever aspire to. The patron inhaled deeply, connecting the dots of memory with what was present.
The woman, nakedly aware, leaned against the pillows, one knee up and one leg down. Her elbow rested upon the knee. She looked like a painting. The patron tried to think of which one, but it had been awhile. The patron smiled uncomfortably. The woman smiled not at all, but rather gazed with solemn, wary eyes. I'm a survivor, those blue eyes seemed to say, You are no one important in my world. In fact, she was so unimportant that they hadn't even exchanged names.
Slim hands threaded nervously through golden hair. This was a bad idea, but it was one she felt driven to. She recognized the compulsion of her intuition very well by now and this one caught her by surprise. There had been no resistance. She'd learned long ago to trust her gut.
It had been a chance glance up from where she sat reading the paper. She wasn't sure what had prompted her, just a niggling sensation and a turn of the head. In moments driver had pulled over and been sent away. He would be back later. Now here she was, in a small, spare room, facing the love of her life.
No. Facing someone who *looked* like the love of her life. That was the truth, and always the hardest thing to remember. Generations and their children's children passing by, beautiful to behold, and she, immortal and forever the forgotten aunt or cousin, the surprise wealthy relative. Once her lover had been part of those those games, bringing good fortune to their descendants and their friends. They were benevolent visitors, mostly (sometimes they had reason not to be). But a vengeful Goddess had tried for their children and her lover, being who she was, had stopped Callisto. Not soon enough for herself though.
The Goddess had laughed in Gabrielle's face. She had refused to send the bard (was that word even used these days?) along, but rather gloated in their separation. It had been a hundred years and Gabrielle had thought she'd finally come to terms with it. Certainly her time spent with the archeologists of the family had done her some good. They had held some understanding, and the seed of immortality lay within them too, but hadn't been awakened. She'd chosen not to explain the opportunities and dangers inherent in being descendants of demigods, but watched with a kind of pride as the wrinkles formed around their eyes and wisdom settled upon their shoulders. She would miss them, when the time came, but that was far away yet. They were off on some dig now and the comfort of their presence out of reach. She'd visit them when they got back to the states. She always loved to hear the stories they told. That last one about the mummy had been a kick.
Yes, she'd finally found some peace again and she wasn't above the company of those who needed the funds. Then to see this young thing upon the streets, wearing a skirt that was too high and a body that was too beautiful to resist, that had reminded her of how much she *hadn't* dealt with her loss.
Gabrielle turned away and licked teeth which were too long and bid them back. They had no place here. She could wait until she was at home, perhaps hunt in the field, maybe invite one or two of her other "children," for a bite to eat (and if things didn't work out here, a bit of sensual fun). There were several now. People who might not bear the sun, but , who were more ethical than their counterparts, who valued life more than themselves.
There weren't that many, comparatively speaking. There was a song to human blood that just wasn't in the kill of any other of Gaia's creatures. It was hard to resist. Gabrielle should know.
She baffled her siblings with her strength. She scared them. Those who were left that is. Many of her sibling's "children," conceived through death, often forgot the worth of their parent's life. She thought maybe there were only one or two in the world besides herself. She had no idea if she was the eldest or the youngest. It didn't matter. She was the most powerful, an ancient one. To the siblings and their children, she was an ancient one who was warm of skin and who lived in the light or the dark and who could be a cruel enemy or, if the case called for it, a canny ally. There had been times in the past when that had been necessary, much as she abhorred it.
She hated their dark politics, but if she could find a way to turn the tide, to make the "rules" that favored mortals more, then that was what she would do. It wasn't like she could rid the world of their presence, though she and Xena had tried more than once. The "people" as they called themselves, usually took it as a wrath of God thing (And Xena's wrath was indeed a wonder to behold) and then propagated when they forgot.
Then there were the one's who didn't forget, or simply never learned the bad habits of their progenitors. Gabrielle didn't know how they found her. Certainly she didn't seek them out, but through the centuries one or two or more, sometimes, would find her and ask her how. She could never refuse the penitent. She would teach them what she knew about how her own body operated and why she made the choices she did. Sometimes, if her sibling's blood ran too hot in the child's veins, and that one was desperate enough, she would let them drink of her.
So, okay, there *were* more than a few of her own out there. But, they lived quiet lives (mostly) and several had connected with mortals very happily. She'd even heard of babies coming out of the matches that formed. It was a rare, but good thing and those descendants loved to play in the sun.
Her "children" blended better with the world than their cousins. They had become recently, of themselves, a silently powerful political force in the night's realm. You could always tell the cities and towns where they were strong. People liked to live there.
As for her siblings and the one's who followed death's path, they couldn't kill her. It scared the bejeezus out of those who walked the dark ways, those who thought of themselves as the waking dead. They couldn't kill her, but if she willed it, their lives were as ashes. She was too much like the sun. They couldn't stand her light.
Trembling fingers unfolded cloth from the buttons and she quickly divested herself of the hope that this encounter would be anything special. Her eyes closed in silent grief. She was a sun who missed her sweet night, her other half. Their children's stories were potent and her's were not the only "breed" that roamed the earth. The warrior's spirit was a potent force for good among mortal lives. There were stories of conquerors, lovers, holy women and men, people of power, and adventurers. Gabrielle loved all of their children deeply, mortal and immortal, both her's and Xena's. It was deep enough to sometimes interfere and sometimes make the choice not to interfere.
In this case, here was one who looked like a project in need a bit of rescuing and the demigod had every intent of of being that rescuer. Gabrielle had it planned out in her mind. She would make the child an offer that couldn't be refused. Then she would call Max, the driver, and she would whisk this child away and give her a few more options in life. Yes, that was the pattern she usually followed in such cases.
Probably, if she were younger, Gabrielle would have foregone the sex, and been noble. There was, however, no nobility to be found in her heart right now. There was only the familiar urgency which had too long been forgotten.
She slid out of jeans that spoke of casual wealth and separated herself from time. The golden band, settled in the payment plate, glimmered hotly in what was left of the waning light. She had no intention of the watch ever returning to her wrist. If things didn't go well, her new lover would have a bonus. If things went well, it wouldn't matter.
It wasn't really a seduction, but it wasn't as crass as one might have supposed. The bard slid into the woman's arms and, acting as commanded, avoided kissing her mouth. Instead the redhead went for the taste of the body, her lips moist against skin that tasted of flowers and salt, her palms warm against tanned muscular flesh. Gods she missed the scars.
The woman's touch was magical and sent thrills through Gabrielle's body, tingles that she hadn't felt in a long time. It was so sweetly good that the bard moaned with delight and nipped the skin under her mouth, despite herself. The woman responded, not with chastisement, but with a sultry moan of her own and it thrilled down Gabrielle's body like honey. Gods even the moans were alike. The woman slid down from her reclining position, her legs unfurling and strong arms pushed the bard (who was a little surprised at the sudden forcefulness. . .who was paying for this?) so the strawberry blonde was positioned between them.
That was signal enough for Gabrielle, who, having deliberately been careful to not put her usual zing into the lovemaking, made a sudden choice to bring as much pleasure as she could to the child. It was one of the better gifts of being a demigod, or even a demigod's progeny. The Zing, or as Gabrielle used to call it when Xena was there to tease, the "Xing," was a gift that kept on giving and the warrior's look alike definitely had it. Gabrielle smirked a little, then let her tongue slide provocatively along a dusky nipple. The woman wouldn't have been on the street very long. Their progeny never were.
After that, Gabrielle poured herself into pleasing the woman. Or at least she was going to. The bard was slicking her fingers damply through dark curls when, once again, she found herself being physically moved. This time the startled woman found herself on her back, her own legs spread and tilted. Wide hazel eyes glanced up into a face that held anything but professional disinterest. Gabrielle frantically tried to think, then frantically forgot to think as lips softer than velvet drew a fiery path down to her loins.
The touch of the woman's tongue scattered a multitude of signals through Gabrielle's body. Come hither, they called, spiraling the bard into an ecstatic set of undulating movements. The bard reached to touch and her hands slid familiarly through silky dark hair. She closed her eyes and for a moment, with the way the smells settled in the air, the way long hands slid along her body, she *was* in Xena's loving presence. The tears started leaking then, long slow streams of frustration, grief, desire and ardent need.
"Please, oh please," was the most sincere prayer that issued from someplace deep within her. The simple words covered everything in her yearning. She felt pressure against her hollow and the plunging slide of fingers into her depth. Yes.
She arched receptively, accepted and was taken. Guttural noises, pleased noises emanated from the brunette and Gabrielle found herself responding with hot little pants and noises of her own. She forced herself, somehow, to remember. . .No names. . .she must not. . ..The tears continued to roll, cleansing her. Where had these tears been so long ago?
She came in a flare of wet color and her ecstatic cry slammed against the ceiling and echoed through the room. There was a thump from upstairs and an unnecessary shout of "Quiet Down There!" The noise was over for the moment. Gabrielle would have grinned save she was sobbing too hard to smile.
The woman slid up the bard's length, covering her. Her leg found a natural haven between the bard's. Then she compassionately wiped the tears that spread themselves down the red head's cheeks with a damp touch. She made soothing noises, "shh, I'm here. I'm here." Gods, even their voices were even alike. Gabrielle cried even harder and her body tried to curl itself into a ball, but ended up wrapping itself around the woman who now completely held her and rocked her gently. "Shh. It's all right. It's over. Shh." Her touch was gentle as she smoothed the hair away from Gabrielle's face.
Gabrielle eventually hiccuped to a stop and she felt the gentle pressure of lips against her forehead. The bard laughed shakily, "I thought you said no kissing."
The woman's voice was like silk, "that was a caress, with the lips." The bard smiled quirkily, closed her eyes and felt the return smile against her forehead. Gods, the same sense of humor too. She surrendered to the warmth of the embrace with a sigh. This wouldn't be so bad, if it worked out.
Moments passed in quiet, then the bard spoke again. It was time to face the truth and "interfere." Her voice trembled in the silence as she asked a most important question, "Who are you?"
She felt tender lips remove themselves from her forehead and she sighed. Damn it, she would have to work on her timing. She pulled herself regretfully from the embrace, knowing the moment was over.
Then, as soft as the wind in spring time, her face was tilted up and she found herself looking at an elegant face which was softly regarding her. The woman smirked and Gabrielle found herself making another comparison. That would have to stop.
"Well," the brunette drawled, "lately I've been called Princess," Gabrielle felt something begin a slow melt inside. "But you," Soft lips began a descent, "can call me," pressed and opened, her tongue causing sparks of renewed passion, "Xena."
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These pages were last updated: October 30, 1997
(c)October 1997