FINAL DRAFT: 121499; MIDNIGHT
Disclaimers: Uber SAME SEX angst and LOVING AHEAD.
BIG OLD WHOPPING THANK YOUS TO MY BETA READERS! Once again you folks have done a miracle.
In the third year of the Conqueror's reign, it was believed that nothing could overcome the evil that was Xena.
She ruled so harshly, so crushingly, that her heart was thought to be made of the very stones that fortified her castle. The warrior’s battle cunning was legendary in its complete and devastating viciousness.
She was a woman given to the fire of war and vengeance. The people knew the ruthless Empress to be inhuman. It was rumored that she drank the blood of her enemies for strength and ate their hearts for recreation, and everyone believed this.
She was the chosen of the God of War. This also, everyone believed.
The rumor was that the God and the Conqueror shared more than an interest in battles. Some said she was his daughter, and this explained her incredible strength and agility of body. Some said she was his lover, and this explained the constancy of her successes. Some said she was both, and hence she had an incomparable and deadly charm.
But, whatever the case, all knew that Ares rejoiced in her. More than one battlefield streamed crimson during her rule.
It could be said that she was fair, only because all who failed her justice eventually shared the same fate; death.
No one escaped her angry whim. No sin was too small for her to render a bitter and deadly punishment. Crosses littered the grounds outside her city walls in fields that were meant for the farmer's labor. The scourging post was stained with the rust of blood.
She was more fearsome in her carnage than any wild creature of the wood. She played with her victims, more cruel than a cat with a mouse. Torture was a game to her, one that she always won. The cries of the tormented soothed her in her baths.
Despite the inherent dangers of living under her rule, not all the governing lords were her enemies. Xena was careful, after winning her lands, to keep the best and most malleable talent. She used whatever means necessary, but she was a cunning, wary creature. Xena was not hesitant to destroy those she thought to be hidden snakes that might bite back.
Therefore, all feared her. They feared her power and her allure. They feared her wrath. Her servants were especially aware of the inherent danger of their livelihood. The peasants outside her keep suffered, perhaps even starved, for they were kept poor by the army that Xena led, but it was worse for the people who attended to Xena's whims.
The paid staff of her entourage were little better off. Her people earned the wages of their keep and slowly, ever so slowly, made their way to freedom from her service. If they lived.
Cooks disappeared from the kitchens if she was dissatisfied. Strange meats that no one would touch to their lips could be found in the cold-rooms on those days. Musicians lost their ears and tongues at her humor. Jugglers lost their hands if they couldn't keep up with her. She was a strange perfectionist, capable, it seemed, of doing almost anything.
Tax collectors, who seemed to be more like creatures of Tartarus than of humanity, made sure that all paid their portion to support the battles that were fought to maintain the new Empire. If a little more fell into their own pockets all the better. If Xena found out, however, woe unto even those broad-shouldered ruffians. If there was anything she loathed more than a sniveling commoner, it was any sort of perceived disobedience.
She expected the people to revolt. After all, they had been conquered and she didn't expect their love. But those under her command suffered worse than the commoners if her word was defied or if Xena found her golden coffers a little emptier for the greed of some man. Betrayal did not suit the Warrior Queen. Flaying was well within her repertoire of punishments, and the violators of her, "trust," paid in their flesh for that which was lost.
She was a hard mistress. Xena demanded demonstrations of fealty from those who claimed to be loyal to her. It was not unknown for brother to slay brother at her soft-spoken command. She held gladiatorial combats, disguised as entertainment, to make sure that only those who were most proficient at killing became her guards. Those who knew the more subtle arts became her assassins. She was famed for her prowess. She had an enjoyment of contests, which she would sometimes join. She was strong and quick and deadly. She used any weapon handy with uncanny skill. Despite her fearsome ways, the common soldiery adored her. Those who won their place in her army both craved and feared the prize of her favor, even if their education came at a cost.
And the slaves? If they had their lives, they were grateful and lived for her pleasure. If they were fortunate, and if she was very pleased, they might gain their freedom. If not...death was a kindness.
Then something changed.
On one hundred and fifty-first day of the fourth year of the reign of Xena, Conqueror of All the Known World, a new law was declared.
Where once, all suffered a similar fate for their crimes, now the punishment was to be made to fit both the crime and the individual. From then on, it was possible for a happy few to survive the justice of her courts. At those times, the divine punishment became one of obligation and servitude, rather than instant death. Guards of the prisoners were commanded to treat them with...if not respect, at least better than in times past, or else they would suffer Xena's wrath. The proclamation was sent from city to city and region to region.
Welcome as this proclamation was, strange rumors accompanied it. Rumors of a mysterious woman who had suddenly appeared within the Conqueror's court. She was known as Gabrielle of Poteidaia, of peasant stock, and as a very vocal inciter to rebellion.
She had been captured by Xena's men in Corinth and jailed for her efforts. The judgment by Xena was swift, as all her judgments were. By the Conqueror's command, after the troublemaker was hung upon a previously used cross, a sturdy hammer blow crushed Gabrielle's legs. Then she was taken to the fields, to become one of many sufferers. She should have died in agony.
Amazingly, she did not.
Of the peasants, most preferred to believe Gabrielle was sent by the Gods to tame the beast. Some thought she had been sent back by Hades because the Fields were overflowing with the dead, but there were too many others who'd succumbed to Celeste's, the Goddess of death, gentle hand. Others, who believed in the Gods less, said that someone must have come for her, bribing her freedom from the field's guards, and that she was crazy to have gone into the viper's nest. There were whispers of a deadly game of words that she played with the Empress night after night. There was a guarantee of death if she failed. Surely Gabrielle would die soon. No one, besides the Conqueror, was that skilled.
Still, she was one of them, brought into the heart of Xena's court, and the people knew that somehow, since her descent from the cross, there had been a miraculous easing of the burden that had pressed upon the citizenry. When the people saw her sitting in the tavernas and listening to the tellers, most treated her with the respect of wonder. Her survival was a puzzle that only the Fates could unravel.
For firstcomers, it was always a surprise to see her. She was more beautiful in person than they expected. Her hair was the color of flickering fire. Her skin was fair, and her lips formed sweetly. She was spirited and gifted with words that carried a wisewoman's weight. No one doubted that the flame of her heart was still there, but her ways had changed. She was quieter in the telling. She roused people to a different kind of subversion -- one that didn't require them to take up arms against the Conqueror, but rather to find better ways of living.
As one who had nearly lost her life, she emphasized the beautiful things in it. She told them simple and clever stories, inspiring barkeeps to honesty and craftsmen to pride. She was listened to. She was discreet. Despite the fact that she was suspected to be Xena's lover, the people trusted her and, if they could manage their way past her vigilant guard, would say things to her in hopes the information would reach the Empress' ears in one form or another. She was THE storyteller. They listened when the Conqueror sent word through her . . .and believed.
There were those in the court who hated Gabrielle's presence. They speculated and hoped that she was just another of Xena's games, and that soon the Conqueror would lose interest, but in the meantime, things changed quickly and too much. Those dissatisfied ones became short-sighted, blaming every lost battle upon the bard. Privileges they'd come to expect, rewards in human flesh that they claimed for themselves, seemed to slip from their grasp. It made for disgruntlement among the rougher crowd and the higher ranks alike. They prayed the storyteller would make a mistake one day, failing in her quest, and like other servants before her would be killed in a most gruesome way.
But woe to those who said such in the presence of the Empress.
Quiet plots were begun in the hidden places of the court. Xena was losing her edge, they said. . .but, not where the Conqueror could hear them.
Those who made the mistake of publicly trying to persuade Xena to lose her bard for the sake of her empire found themselves burdened with insultingly menial duties. They never realized that they owed their lives to the smaller woman they so despised. It was her words that gentled the Conqueror's wrath. Then again, those who were so open were not the ones Xena let herself worry about.
The caveat was that they were warned only once. The next insult toward Gabrielle promised death.
She'd already carried out such an oath, continuing to follow in her path of swift and irrevocable justice. The chakram had made such a fine cut along the neck that at first, no one realized that anything had happened.
Then the head fell off, making an even finer bloody example for her courtiers.
It was proof that, despite those whispers, Xena had not lost her edge. Or her keen hearing.
The lords might say what they would, but few of the servants in the castle complained. They would have been fools if they had, and if they were smart, like Vidalis, they put every effort into helping the woman keep Xena's pleasure. Through her presence, the woman named Gabrielle, who kept a sunny disposition despite her desperate and obvious pain, had made life just a little easier.
Meanwhile, those scholars, mathematicians, and philosophers who had survived the first of the Conqueror's reign prospered after Gabrielle's arrival. Despite their fear of the flail, for the bard they happily drove themselves to discover new things to fascinate the Conqueror or to provide her new "toys." It was easier now that they knew they might survive a failure or two. There was a palpable rise in production once Gabrielle was able to convince the Empress of the value and difference of unwasted, willing service.
Accountants also began to earn the Empress' favor. Her sharp eye caught any error, but accurate books were handsomely rewarded. Other servitors began to thrive in her presence. Capable serving maids became treasured and were given opportunities to enhance their experience.
Even during the worst part of her scourging past, the Empress, it turned out, had been oddly compassionate to those who were truly slow of wit, never using them as clowns for others' entertainment. She had not considered it sporting.
Their lot improved also. If they were capable of holding a tray and not spilling, they were rewarded with a shimmering smile and kind word that made them stand straighter and try even harder. The Empress did not abide unwarranted cruelty to those slower ones who served in her court.
During the change, the servants found that even the lowest stablehand had a chance at success. This did not mean that dealing with Xena became easy. She could turn cruel instantly, and her eyes remained dangerous to politicians who sought to manipulate her. Still, despite her harsh ways, she was mostly fair, sometimes even generous, in her compensation. But it was common knowledge that it was far too easy to lose one's soul to her.
In time, the change in policy reached the ears of the Empress' most loyal and humble servant, Lao Ma, Regent of the Kingdom of Chin.
In days to come, stories would be told of the powerful and immortal Lao Ma. "It was she," the wisemen, after much study, would say, "who wrote the Book of the Way." She hared credit for the inspiration with her learned, elderly husband. It was a known fact that they were equals in all things. For this reason it was believed that Lao Tsu and Lao Ma walked together in the heavens. Before her own ascension to the heavens, however, Lao Ma was simply a woman of authority; one of the Conqueror's favored.
The honored one was comely, wise, and intelligent. Her hair was long and shimmery dark, her almond skin was perfect, and her eyes revealed a beautiful soul. She was capable of a great many admirable things. Her manners were impeccable. She knew her lineage and was a credit to her ancestors. She was educated and skilled.
It was believed that the objects of the world bent to her will, but she was a woman of great serenity and used her power with meekness. The monks admired her for her understanding of the Way. Despite her peaceful demeanor, however, it was known that she was a dangerous foe. Few dared to try to take the rule from her, for she was master of her art.
Now Lao Ma, unlike others who claimed to be in Xena's service, was given some latitude in the governance of her people. The freedom to rule as she pleased was a rare gift from Xena, an acknowledgement of times past. It could be stated that up to the time of change, Chin was the only land that thought of Xena as a Great Empress. That was what Lao Ma wished, despite her current disappointment in the Conqueror's ways. Xena was, after all, her Warrior Princess. The thriving people were lavish with their tribute, which pleased the Conqueror well. Therefore, the Empress of the Known World had seen no reason to change her favors toward one who was an old, dear...friend.
Index | Fan Fiction Site | Home Page
If you have questions or comments you can e-mail me at: prosper4@hotmail.com
Unkind comments will be wasted.
URL: ../../STO/healer/healer.html
UPDATE: 121499
(c)DECEMBER1999