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Chapter Text

It was the scariest, craziest, stupidest thing Gabrielle had ever done, taking off after the warlord, and she openly admitted it to herself.

She was young and inexperienced, but she wasn’t naive. She’d heard the stories of death and destruction, tales of slaughter and depravity so gruesome they’d send shivers down your spine. Xena’s reputation was a well-known thing across the countryside. Nowhere in any of the rumours of her ruthless battle tactics, or her god’s-given talent to spray blood, was there mention of a disposition to kindness or generosity. Gabrielle had never heard Xena described as cruel, but the general understanding was that you did not go near the warlord unless you were prepared to lose something to her sword. 

For most villages, that meant a harvest. For those that wasted her time, a body-part. And for those who defied her… Well, that was where most of her tales came from. 

As a simple village-girl, Gabrielle wasn’t supposed to have known any of the bloody particulars about Xena--those were saved for the of-age men who frequented Potadeia’s tavern--but Gabrielle had an active and intelligent mind, one that was scarcely met or challenged within the confines of her small shepherd’s village. So, at the tender age of eleven, Gabrielle had dug herself a small hole under the back porch of the tavern. She’d wriggle under the floorboards and stare up through the cracks, listening to the men tell tales of the outside world. 

It wasn’t exactly the truth she heard, but what the men talked in the tavern was closer to it than anything she would’ve heard at home. 

And so she heard all the many tales of Xena. And all the many names they called her. Bitch of Thrace. Princess of War. Blood of Ares. Destroyer of Nations. 

Every father’s worst nightmare of a daughter.

Gabrielle knew all this, and she went anyway, after the tall warlord with the baleful eyes and a face as dead and hardened as stone. The first time Xena had smiled at Gabrielle it had seemed to take the work of a chisel to crack her lips, and it had looked about as painful. This cold woman who only seemed to come alive in the heat of battle should not by any rational means have been the person Gabrielle decided to hitch all her hopes on. 

The young girl had been deliberating for months on how she could escape her impending marriage. She was sure if she could just get to the Academy of the Bards in Athens that she could make a life for herself. But Athens was a far cry from Macedon, and Gabrielle had no idea how to get there.

But then Xena had come.

She had saved Gabrielle’s life, Lila’s, everyone. It upended every story Gabrielle had ever heard about her. A plan had quickly hatched in Gabrielle’s mind. If she suddenly disappeared after Xena passed through, it would be easy to fake her kidnapping. A few words from her sister’s mouth was all it would take to convince her father that the violent woman-warlord they’d been telling racy and sordid tales about for years had kidnapped one of their young, nubile girls. After all, Xena’s alleged sexual depravities were almost as well-known as her crimes. 

The trickiest part of her plan was actually getting Xena to take her with. Sure, she saw another side to the woman when she saved Gabrielle’s life, but that didn’t mean Xena would want anything to do with her, for free no less. But Gabrielle had pleaded, and argued, and persisted until eventually, Xena told her to either fuck off or meet the pointy-end of her sword. 

Gabrielle took another gamble. She called Xena’s bluff. 

Gabrielle wasn’t sure who was more surprised when she did it. They were both stunned into silence, and for half a second Xena’s glacial eyes had thawed, and Gabrielle saw a bone-tired weariness through the mask of stone. And then Xena sheathed her sword, and agreed to Gabrielle’s terms.

Xena would get the young bard to the crossroads outside Athens, and from there, they would part. 

---

Gabrielle adjusted her chiton as she left her townhome, crossing the courtyard she shared with four other tenants and out onto the busy Athens streets. She had a set of scrolls tucked under her arm, some scratch work she’d been doing on a new story. It was about a girl who at birth had been lost to the wilds, and the woman she’d grown up to be. It was in its early stages, but Gabrielle found herself very excited by the project, finding it was something utterly new instead of another expansion on her standing works. 

She loved revisiting her most beloved heroes, but there was just something exhilarating about adventuring into the unknown. 

Gabrielle chuckled at her own thoughts, knowing what her friend, Phoebe, would've said to that.

By the gods, Gab, you make it sound like all this isn’t in your head. 

Which, Gabrielle would probably point out, was why she was such a well-respected and venerated bard. 

“Gabrielle!” A voice yelled over the din of foot traffic just as Gabrielle got to the steps of the Academy. She turned on her sandals and smiled. 

“I was just thinking about you. What’re you doing up here this early?” Gabrielle asked as Phoebe bumped a rushing servant out of her way. She scowled and mounted the stairs beneath her. 

“Watch it!” she shouted after the retreating figure. Shaking her head, she turned to Gabrielle. “Idiots. It's like they don’t have eyes.”

“He’s just busy, Pheeb,” Gabrielle chided her. Phoebe’s disdain for the slave and servant class was something they would never agree on, even though Gabrielle would've been a part of that class had the Muses not chosen her. Sometimes, Gabrielle wished Phoebe understood that better. “Remember how we met?”

“Ah, right. The greasy, tow-headed blonde with the charging power of a bull.”

“My hair was not greasy!” Gabrielle laughed in outrage. She reached a self-conscious hand up to pat her hair. It was pulled back by two simple braids. She preferred it that way, even though she had the standing and income to wear the more fashionable braided up-do’s like Phoebe did. “My hair has never, and will never, be greasy.”

“I hate to break it to you, Gab, but it was greasy. Back then, you were still some no-one bookworm who spent all day and night in a library. I’m surprised there wasn’t cobwebs and dust in there, too.”

Gabrielle huffed.

“The Rhapsodes were running me ragged. I didn’t always have time to get down to the public baths.”

“You’re the only woman I know who would let parchment come before hygiene.” Gabrielle pouted a little more, fingering the end of her belt like she always did when she was upset. Phoebe laughed and took her by the shoulders, pressing a dainty but sincere kiss to her cheek. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Gabrielle pretended to pout for another second and then she waggled her eyebrows. 

“I did turn out pretty good for a no-one bookworm, huh?”

Phoebe rolled her eyes and released her. 

“Just lovely, my great bard, now don’t go getting a big head about it. You’d need more hair and it's already such a struggle for you to keep this nest clean.”

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes, but then just laughed. 

“Okay, if you’re done being mean, would you like to tell me why you’re here?”

Phoebe’s lips stretched into a wide smile. 

“Yes. I was just speaking to Aurelius last night about the coming games. We were both at the planning banquet held by Magistrate Plymos. He was talking about this and that for the arena. Blah, blah… gladiators, blah, blah, blah… blood, blah, blah… glory.”

Gabrielle snorted.

“Your dialogue is just exquisite. Maybe I should adopt that style for my own stories.”

“Hush, Bard. Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Okay,” Gabrielle agreed with a chuckle. “Go.”

“Well, once I got some more of Salmoneus’ swill in him, I managed to get him off all the blood and glory. And, as he loves to remind everyone, Aurelius is the Greek ambassador to Rome. I brought up that the great bard Gabrielle was a casual acquaintance of mine,” Phoebe said with a wink as they crossed the main atrium of the Academy. They weaved their way through young scholars splayed on benches and under trees, studiously reading scrolls in the mid-morning light. “The second I said your name, Poseidon could not stop the flood. He went on and on about how wonderful it would be to have the famed Greek bard at the opening reception. ‘So beautiful, so Greek, so talented,’” she moaned in a mock low voice.

“Gods,” Gabrielle cursed, slapping a hand over Phoebe’s mouth. She couldn’t resist the chuckles trying to escape. “Would you be quiet? He did not say that.”

Phoebe shook her head adamantly. 

“He did. In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve got half the city wrapped around your little pinky, Gabs. I mean, why wouldn’t they love you when they're used to getting their entertainment from weathered old men and pre-pubescent boys?”

“Hmm,” was all Gabrielle said in response, but she couldn’t stop the blush or the pleased smile from tipping her lips. She glanced out over the courtyard, noting that all the scholars there were boys or young men. Gabrielle was an exception, there only on account of her undeniable gift and the popularity of her first story series. Her tales of Xena, penned not long after her arrival in the city, were still regarded as some of her best. They’d bought her a place in the Academy. “I suppose there may be some truth to that. But that better not be what you were so amped up to tell me. You know I’ve no interest in Aurelius.”

Phoebe sniffed. 

“Your doubt offends me. Do you think I don’t know that? No. I asked Aurelius what was going to be so special about having you at this reception. I mean, no offense, but you didn’t hear the way he was going off about you. It was a lot. And you performed at the opening of the Games four years ago, too.”

“Okay, so what was it?”

Phoebe pulled her to the side of the peristyle, glancing around a bit before leaning in close. 

“You didn’t hear it from me, but this year, Athens will be hosting the Imperator at the Olympic Games.” 

Gabrielle’s eyes went as wide as drachmae. 

“Julius Caesar?” she whispered in shock.

Phoebe nodded, her face now very sober. Gabrielle blinked. 

“Shit.”

Phoebe cracked a wry smile.

“That’s one way of putting it, but that’s not even the best part. According to Aurelius, Caesar is going to be traveling with his co-consul, Mark Antony. Antony's said to be a big fan of yours, Gabrielle. Aurelius was gushing about how great it was going to be to rub you and your heritage in their faces.” 

“Wow,” Gabrielle said, a bit in shock. Ever since her ascension into Athens’ upper echelons, she’d been a part of the gossip and political maneuvering. It was unavoidable. And most of the time, she was happy to go along with it. After all, she only ever wanted to ply her trade and share her gift. She could care less if she was doing it on behalf of one wealthy gentleman or another. 

But this was something else, to know she had the attention of the Roman consuls. She wasn’t entirely sure it was a good thing. She didn’t know if she wanted to be used as a pawn in some sort of pissing match between Athens and Rome. 

“Hey, why the long face, Gabrielle?” Phoebe bumped her shoulder. “This could be great for you. You’re always going on about how you love Athens and the Academy, but you want to travel. Like you did with that scary, warlord bitch. This could be your chance to get into the big leagues.” 

“I know, but…” Gabrielle shook her head. Phoebe was right. This was a great opportunity. Besides, meeting leaders was nothing new to her. She’d already met Mark Antony before, when she’d performed for proconsul Tibernius while he was in Athens on business. “Actually, you’re right. And hey,” Gabrielle said with a critical eye, suddenly wanting to move the topic off of Roman dignitaries. “Xena isn’t a warlord-bitch.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. 

“Whatever you say, Gabrielle.” 

--- 

A few days later found Gabrielle in all the noisy, cultured splendor of Athens’ central agora. She had a basket filled with fresh ink and two beautifully tooled and crafted pens. The reeds had detailed hexagonal designs painted down the sides and Gabrielle knew she would use the utensils sparingly so they would last. She also had some fresh fruits tucked beside the ink, and in honesty, she was ready to go. But Phoebe had dragged her over to a silk trader and was currently busy draping Gabrielle in bolts of lurid cloth that were beautiful and also far beyond her price range. 

“Oh, and this one! By Athena, Gabrielle, look at the weaving of these flowers! And the base color, this green is so rich it would complement your eyes beautifully. What did you say it was?” she addressed the trader, who looked very pleased to have a wealthily-dressed Phoebe at his stall. 

“Jade, milady. Dey calls it jade where dat’s from.”

“Jade. Oh, yes! Like that green stone you were telling me about, Gabrielle. Wait, look at this. If you take this green vine pattern and layer it over this softer blue you could…”

“Phoebe,” Gabrielle gently interrupted, trying to catch her arm. 

“And then if you hemmed the line towards the navel…”

“Phoebe!” Gabrielle tried a little more forcefully. She pulled her friend in closer. “Please, stop torturing this poor man. You know I can’t afford any of this and your father nearly had a fit over that purple palla you bought last week.”

“But Gabrielle!” Phoebe whined, golden ringlets bouncing as she nearly stomped her foot. “You’re going to be entertaining the heads of the Roman Republic next week! Don’t tell me you’re going to wear another one of these white togas.”

She gestured dismissively at Gabrielle’s current clothing choice. It was a light chiton with minimal layering and no sleeves, bound around her waist by a braided, leather cord that Phoebe always said was a horrendous fashion mistake. The edges and collar of the chiton were accented with a geometric, golden embroidery that showed a bit of Gabrielle’s wealth and station. Still, it was very simple beside Phoebe’s artistically layered peplos and palla. The palla was dyed the deepest of Roman reds and both had an infinity of folds that made her seem to shift like water when she moved. 

And for Phoebe, this was considered day wear. 

Gabrielle often performed in peplos and chiton that weren’t much fancier than this one. For a moment, Gabrielle considered that maybe Phoebe was right. This was a big deal and maybe it would be best to spend a little extra for something fancier. The silk would certainly make a beautiful palla, or even a himation if she wanted to shell out some extra drachma. 

Before she could decide, running footsteps and her name drew Gabrielle’s attention. She turned to see a young girl with bronze, workmen's skin, and dark hair darting in between the outer colonnades of the agora.  

“Alcmene? What is it?” Gabrielle called in concern as the girl finally reached her. She was no more than ten or eleven, and Gabrielle had met her when she was half that. 

The girl held up a hand with a gasp, palms resting on her knees. She caught her breath before standing, sending a nervous look in Phoebe’s direction. As the daughter of an Athenian Senator, someone like Alcmene would rarely speak around her. It also didn’t help that Phoebe often spoke to Gabrielle like the child wasn’t there when she was. 

It was expected of someone in Phoebe’s stratum, and Gabrielle knew it was almost second-nature for the young woman now. Hades, Phoebe had gotten and still received plenty of side-eye for befriending Gabrielle, who no matter how great a bard she was, would always be village-stock and low-born. 

Gabrielle didn’t like it. She loved Alcmene and her family. But no amount of reasoning or arguing with Phoebe got her to treat the girl better, so it was how it was; the two often crossed in Gabrielle’s presence, and then did their best to act like the other wasn’t there.

“Sorry, Gabrielle-” she gasped. “I ran all the way up-from the lower markets-by the port-in Piraeus.”

“What?” Gabrielle demanded, knowing the trip to be near two candlemarks. “What were you doing all the way down there? Don’t tell me you were alone.”

Alcmene waved her hand and then grabbed Gabrielle by the wrist, shooting Phoebe another look as she began dragging the bard towards the Piraean Gate that would take them down the Long Wall to the port-city. 

“Yell at me later,” she said. “But you need to come see this. A slave-ship just arrived fer the Games. Is carryin’ gladiators to be bought and fought in the arena. Not any of the fancy, trained ones. Just captured criminals, fugitives, and the like. Add some wild blood to the stock’s what the slavers were cryin’.”

“Wait, what?” Gabrielle demanded, pulling back and forcing Alcmene to stop. They’d crossed the agora, Phoebe trailing behind somewhat skeptically. “Mene, you shouldn’t have been down by the slavers. You know how dangerous that is! And what does any of this have to do with me? You can’t just drag me off to Piraeus.” 

“But Gabrielle,” Alcmene said, turning to face her fully. “There’s a woman there. Hair of ebony and eyes of ice, just like you describe her. I saw her. And they’re sayin’ her name is Xena.”

Chapter Text

So Gabrielle ended up in Piraeus, her heart thundering in her ears from the long jog and her eyes searching the streets the second they got into the city proper. Gabrielle was almost too nervous to believe it, that this could actually be Xena. After all these years--the bard quickly calculated--almost four of them now. 

She hadn’t seen or heard from the ex-warlord since she left her reluctantly at the crossroads outside Athens. Gabrielle's first year in the city, she’d spent any coin she managed to scrounge sending letters after the notorious warrior. Asking her how she was, updating her on life in Athens, asking her to come visit, a couple times even asking for Xena to take her home. 

It had been a terrifying first year. Living in squalor for several weeks, almost starving and struggling to get booked or paid in even the seediest of taverns, while she fought to get a spot in the Academy. She’d won their competition, but they’d refused to let her in. 

At least, at first. Eventually, her talent overwhelmed their stodginess.

But there had been several nights spent on the streets, or bumming in one of the temples while she waited. And more than a few times the taverns tried to market her for… other skills. There were two close calls in particular that still haunted Gabrielle to this day. It was after those that Gabrielle had sent her most pitiful note, begging Xena to come get her, take her home, or anywhere. She just knew that with Xena she’d be safe. 

Gabrielle had almost given up. 

But Xena had never received her messages or never responded, because Gabrielle was forced to figure it out on her own. And she did. And she had. 

When Gabrielle started making steady money at the Academy, she’d sent out a flurry of letters, thinking that her first attempts had been too intermittent to catch the fast-moving warrior. But Xena never responded, never visited, and Gabrielle was forced to face the fact that maybe the friendship that had defined her teenage years hadn’t meant that much to the warrior… despite what she said. 

Despite Xena calling Gabrielle closer than blood. 

The silence had torn at Gabrielle’s deepest insecurities, and played havoc with her worst fears for Xena.

When the first news of Xena fighting battles up in northern Thrace trickled down to Athens, Gabrielle had just been relieved to know she was alive. She’d worried later why her one-time friend seemed to be doing the same things she’d sworn off before meeting Gabrielle. Since then, Gabrielle had avoided news of Xena like the plague, and Xena seemed to have, unwittingly or not, done the same for Gabrielle. She stayed far away from the southern tip of Greece, the latest news Gabrielle had heard being that Xena had traveled East. 

And that was over three years ago. 

Was this just some mistake? Some other woman with black hair and light eyes? Or just some woman by the name Xena?

Did Gabrielle want it to be her?

Yes.

The answer came to her quickly and with a desperation that Gabrielle thought the years, and doubt, and bitterness had shorn off. 

Yes, she wanted it to be Xena.  

Gabrielle weaved her way through the jam-packed streets after Alcmene. Phoebe had considered following them, until she realized Alcmene intended on running, and then she’d kindly offered to take Gabrielle’s basket back to her home near the Hill of Muses. 

They made it down to the dockside, both panting, and Gabrielle quickly picked up the sound of the hawkers and the clank of chains as they approached the back end of a large crowd. Most of the people there were workers, not looking to buy, but to watch. Closer in there was a layer of better-dressed Athenians and visiting patricians, looking to sponsor someone in the arena, but not wealthy enough to pay for a full-fledged gladiator. 

Gabrielle surveyed the slaves put up on the block. They were chained to the raised floors beneath them, most of them in no more than loincloths to show off their bodies. It was a dirty bunch of men, ragged and bearded. 

“I don’t see any women,” Gabrielle said to Alcmene. “Where is she?”

“Dunno,” the young girl responded, climbing up on a crate to see over the heads. “They was still gettin’ off the boat, last I was here.” 

Gabrielle felt apprehension prick her. 

Many people knew Xena’s name because of her. They knew her skill with the sword and also her beauty. And many more knew Xena personally. Knew her as an enemy, a warlord, and a criminal. There were plenty of people who might’ve bought Xena because they had a bone to pick with her. 

“Oh, Gabrielle, there!” Alcmene said, pointing off towards the warehouse they were bringing another line of slaves out of. “I think I saw her.”

The girl jumped off the crate and Gabrielle scrambled after her, elbowing people out of the way to get to the far side of the crowd. They burst through to several shouts of discontent. Gabrielle barely heard it as she scanned the line of heads. 

She sucked in a breath, grabbing Alcmene’s arm.

“There she is,” she said, her voice colored by shock. 

Xena’s tall head stood proudly between two dockworkers who were hauling her onto a pedestal. It seemed the slaves here were being sold one at a time. The slaver was taking a moment to say his piece about their raised value before the bidding started. 

“Wow. She really is very tall,” Alcmene said, staring up at the half-naked woman as she was locked into place. She had lean, defined muscle. Not like a man’s, and yet still cording and bunching undeniably beneath her dust and grime-spattered skin. Her face was set in a dour scowl, one blue eye squinted behind a swollen and bruised eyelid. The planes of her face were sharp and a bit boxy, long, dark hair falling past her shoulders in untamed waves. “She’s kind of scary.”

“Yeah, she always was a bit,” Gabrielle agreed absently, still half in shock that she was seeing Xena at all. 

The warrior was covered in lurid bruises, and a ratty, bloodied piece of cloth was tied around her thigh. The injury was bad enough to give the warrior a pronounced and concerning limp. Her spine was bent in a way Gabrielle had never seen in the time she’d known Xena, and even from this distance, she could see an exhaustion behind the scowl that hadn’t been present in the past. 

But the days when Xena had served as Gabrielle’s protector were long past, and this was now, and right now the woman that had made Gabrielle’s entire career possible was about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. 

“Stay here, Mene,” Gabrielle said, drifting to the front of the crowd and squaring her shoulders. Most of the crowd were men, and they were all taller than her, but she tried to put as much gravity in her stance as she found a spot in between them. 

“A’right. Wif me here, I bring ya, Xena. Famed Destroyer o’ Nations. The Betrayer and Princess of War, herself. Many a Greek and Roman general would be glad to see her spitted. So’s if you can get past backin’ a woman in the arena… who wants her? Starts at 200 drachmae.” 

Gabrielle barely heard the number following the question before her hand shot up. The slaver followed her hand and pointed. 

“200 to the… lady?” he trailed off. “Who're you?”

Gabrielle swallowed nervously and stepped forward as a ripple of disbelief moved through the men bracketing her. Xena still hadn’t looked down at her, staring off at some far-distant point as if she had better things to think about than her impending enslavement. 

“I am the Great Bard of Athens, Gabrielle, and I am here on behalf of the Athen’s Academy.”

Xena’s head snapped down at her words, blue eyes piercing hers with such force Gabrielle was almost pushed back. Their gazes locked, but for the life of her, Gabrielle couldn't make out what was behind those glacial irises. Was Xena happy to see her? Did she understand she was here to help? Why hadn’t she ever responded?

Gabrielle physically jerked her eyes from Xena’s and back to the slaver.

“I’d like to purchase this woman.” 

The man snorted, resting his hands on his hips. 

“Hades would they send you fer?”

“Because I’m the one in need of a slave,” she answered simply.

The man laughed again. 

“Lady, if you want you a servant, go over there to da common chattel. This here’s an animal. She ain’t not made to clean yer room and dust yer flower pots.”

“Do you really think you can tell me about Xena?” Gabrielle demanded, spitting out her closest approximation of Phoebe’s most imperious laugh. 

The slaver on the platform looked lost as to why a short, blond woman was laughing at him. Suddenly, one of his men hopped up beside him and whispered in his ear. 

“Oh. Yer that bard?” he asked. “Da one who made up all those crazy stories ‘bout her.”

“They’re not crazy, but yes. Now, me and the Academy will take her off your hands for 500 drachma right now. I’m assuming that offer is unchallenged. None of you are really willing to back a woman in the arena for more than that, right?” Gabrielle turned and surveyed the crowd, missing the slow quirk of one of Xena’s eyebrows. When no one answered, Gabrielle looked back at the slaver. “Good. Now, where’s the purser?”

With a bewildered expression, the slaver pointed in the direction of a small office off the side of the warehouse. Gabrielle came forward to the stage and took the tag that the slaver ripped free of Xena’s collar. She felt a little sick as she took it, eyes traveling up the bare, dirty feet near her head and to the coldly guarded gaze far above her. She tried to offer Xena a reassuring smile, but she knew it was stiff. 

She thought about saying something, but with everyone watching, she decided it was best to just walk away.

So she did.

---

Gabrielle’s hands fluttered nervously as she stood before the Head Council of the Bard’s Academy. She hadn't been this nervous to face the Rhapsodes since she’d first had to argue for her right to attend. Now, she held a place on the council, the first and only woman, though that position was looking more precarious than ever. 

“It's completely irresponsible and an abuse of the academy's funds!” Garreth exclaimed dramatically from the left side of the half-crescent table the council shared. Gabrielle stood in the middle of the room, foregoing the chairs sometimes used for visitors. If they were going to turn this into a mini-trial, then she wanted to face it standing. “500 drachmae! She throws it about like it's lunch money!”

The older man beside Garreth sighed, raising a salt-and-pepper eyebrow at Gabrielle.

“He has a point, Gabrielle,” Niatheon agreed. “That money belonged to the Academy and you didn't consult any of us beforehand.”

“I know,” Gabrielle said, raising her hands in a placating motion. “But I had to act quickly. Xena is… was a friend. She's the only reason I got here. So in a way, all the money that I've brought to the academy is because of her.”

“We don't owe that washed-up warlord anything,” Garreth scoffed. "Whatever travel fee she extorted out of you is your own business, not ours. By gods, the amount of damage that woman has wrought, she should probably be paying us. Honestly, Gabrielle, this is unacceptable. Illegal, actually. You stole our money and I don't see why we shouldn't get the city guard involved.”

Gabrielle bristled at the suggestion. Only Garreth would say something so drastic. He'd been out for her blood from day one. They were contemporaries, coming onto the council at about the same time. But Garreth had studied at the Academy since he was little, and he was several years older than Gabrielle. He'd never liked the idea that Gabrielle had advanced faster than him. 

“I fully intend to give the Academy its 500 drachmae back. I've already got 150 I can give you now,” Gabrielle insisted, focusing instead on the Headmaster of the Academy, Tiresias. He had the final say, and it was his approval that had gotten her into the academy at all. “You have to understand, I only did what I did because I had to act quickly.”

“The academy is not a bank for giving out loans,” Xavier said critically. 

“I know, but look at it this way. The funds I used are put aside for acquiring resources for the betterment of the Academy. Scrolls, tutors, trips, messengers. Anything in the pursuit of knowledge so we can write better stories. Now, I understand I didn’t get your approval, but I think Xena could be a valuable resource for us as well.”

“A valuable resource?” Garreth sputtered in disbelief. “What could we possibly need with that brute? We have enough slaves to scrub our floors. This is a place of culture and sophistication. The last thing we need is some barbarian cunt who doesn't know her place mucking around.”

Gabrielle’s cheeks heated, and she was about to say something she would probably regret, when the doors to the council chamber burst open. A young apprentice stopped short, looking nervous.

“I'm sorry to interrupt, but there are two dockhands here with a delivery.” He looked at the famed blonde. “For the Bard Gabrielle.”

All six council members shared a look and then Tiresias stood, hunched over with age but still holding a dignified air.

“Well, let's go see the woman causing all this stir. I, for one, have always been curious to lay eyes on the infamous Xena.” 

And without a further word, he left the room. 

Gabrielle and the others hurried after him. The young bard felt a bit of relief at his words. It was the first thing he'd said all session. The fact he wasn't immediately sending her away gave Gabrielle hope. 

They skirted the atrium as a group and Gabrielle made her way to the front as they got to the entrance hall. Two scruffy men with weathered features stood near the door. Xena was between them looking half out of it. The wound on her leg was seeping anew and her eyes held a glaze they hadn't at the market. Despite that, she was still chained from throat to hip.

“You Gabrielle?” One of the men asked. Gabrielle nodded, that sick, squirmy feeling returning to her stomach as she looked at Xena. The man grunted and began undoing the chain that connected her neck to her wrists and her wrists to her hips. When he was done, he shoved her forward harshly. Xena stumbled on her gimpy leg and slammed roughly onto the marble floor, numb hands failing to break her fall. He looked up at the bard with a self-satisfied expression. “Thar ya go. Glad to be free a’ her. C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

The two slavers retreated, leaving Xena to drag herself back to her feet in front of a crowd of gawking faces. By now, everyone in the atrium was looking at her, the young scholars suddenly finding the scrolls in their laps horribly uninteresting. She stood precariously and fixed her audience with an imperious glare. 

“Are-are you okay?” Gabrielle finally snapped out of it, her hand hovering awkwardly in the air between them. Xena’s icy eyes flicked to her and Gabrielle suddenly felt about as eloquent as the teenager Xena had once known.

“You spent 500 drachmae on this?” Garreth asked, shaking his head vehemently. “That wound will have her dead by next week!”

Xena rolled an unimpressed eye in his direction, the other stuck in a permanent squint from the swelling. She grinned rapaciously. 

“Don’t worry. I’m a tough kill,” she reassured him. “But thanks for the concern.”

The man blinked in astonishment, like he hadn’t expected her to be able to talk. Xena mock growled at him, and more than just Garreth flinched. A pleased smirk quirked her lips.

“Nice friends ya’ got here, Gabrielle,” she said lazily, like this wasn’t the first time they’d seen each other in six years. But the young bard froze up at the sound of Xena saying her name, and it must’ve shown on her face because the taunting expression slowly slid off the warrior’s. 

Gabrielle felt tears mist her eyes and she was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to tackle Xena in a hug. It was ridiculous. They’d been friends, yes, but they’d really only known each other for under a year. Gabrielle reigned the urge in, knowing it probably wouldn’t be welcome and wouldn’t be appropriate in front of so many people. You didn’t hug your slaves.

A throat clearing loudly interrupted the moment, and Gabrielle quickly snapped back to reality. She looked over to see Tiresias waiting expectantly. 

“Ah-yes. Sorry. Tiresias, this is Xena,” she said, not bothering with any of her epithets. “Xena, this is Tiresias, the Head Rhapsode of the Academy.”

Tiresias inclined his head politely.

“Xena--Gabrielle has described you well. As she tells it, it's you we owe for bringing her to Athens.”

Xena shifted a bit uncomfortably. 

“I got her to the doorstep, sure. But she did the rest.” 

Tiresias nodded. 

“She paid a hefty fee to get you here. Using, in part, funds from the academy.”

Xena’s eyebrows went up into her matted bangs. 

“I see. That mean I belong to you, old man?”

“To the academy,” he agreed. “Until we can recoup the drachma Gabrielle used without consent to buy you.”

“Ah,” Xena said with a hint of a smile, her reception suddenly making much more sense. She glanced at Gabrielle, who was trying not to look as embarrassed as she was. It resulted in a sort of pinched scowl, but her cheeks were heated anyways, so it was a fairly pointless effort. She turned cool eyes on Tiresias. “So, you gonna fight me in the games, then?”

“Xena, no,” Gabrielle was quick to jump in. “You’re injured.”

“Then what?” Xena snapped with a frown. “No amount of scrubbing tiles works off a debt like that.”

Gabrielle raised a brow, her spine stiffening under Xena’s reproving glare. What she did might’ve been rash, but she wasn’t that feckless kid anymore. She could get herself out of her own messes now. She turned with a set expression to Tiresias.

“As I was saying in the council chamber before we got cut off, I purchased Xena on more than just a whim. She can be an asset to the academy. My stories of Xena are some of our best-sellers. Years later, they’re still in high demand.” She quirked a brow. “What do you think I can make off of a continuation?”

---

They put Xena in an extra apprentices' room that seemed more of an afterthought than anything else. The single, cupboard-sized nook was crammed between the kitchen and toilets in the underground halls of the academy. Xena barely fit inside it. She had to duck when she stepped through the doorway and the bed was similarly disproportionate to her height. As it was, the small thing still dominated the space, basically making you trip over the end of it the second you walked in.

But Xena wasn't about to complain. She knew a lot of slaves were expected to sleep on the ground where they worked. She was surprised they hadn't just given her a pallet in the hallway. Designated housing was an expense most masters couldn't, or wouldn't, pay. Xena had certainly never even bothered to wonder where the few slaves she’d owned slept. 

The tall warrior shifted on the low pallet she sat on, causing a twinge to run up her side and she cursed. She quickly repositioned, feeling the crackle of misplaced bones resettling in her chest. Her ribs were broken for sure. No matter how bad she was trying to deny it. 

The soft pad of sandals on limestone drew her attention, and she was unsurprised when Gabrielle appeared at the door. 

“Hi,” she said awkwardly. “Can I come in?”

Xena shrugged.

“If you can fit.”

Gabrielle smiled, stepping down into the small space left between the bed and wall. 

“Yeah, I know it's tight.” She rubbed her hands together as a tense silence fell. “I hope you know I didn’t buy you just to write more stories.”

Xena studied her for a long moment, her face a careful mask. Gabrielle felt a little uncomfortable under her gaze, and a little sad. She knew it had been a long time, but this Xena seemed just as closed, if not more so than the woman she’d met five years ago. 

“Why did you?” she asked calmly. 

Gabrielle licked her dry lips.

“You’re my friend, Xena. I never forgot that. Even if you-” Gabrielle cut herself off before she could give away any of the bitter feelings that had grown over time. Instead, she tried for a bit of levity. “I mean, you saved me from slavery. I thought it was my turn to return the favor, right?”

“Right,” Xena agreed with a thin smile. 

“Um-I know my way wasn’t quite as effective. But I swear, as soon as I get this debt paid off and your contract transfers to me, I’ll-”

Xena waved a hand, turning to inspect the retied bandage on her leg. 

“Don’t worry about it, Gabrielle. I know.”

The young bard shifted again, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Xena looked back at her impassively, and Gabrielle was suddenly struck with the strong urge to run. 

“Of course, well, I guess I should- I’ll go see if I can find you some bandages. That leg wound looks nasty.” Her eyes trailed to the lurid patch of purple running all the way down Xena’s left side, and some of her discomfort dissipated for concern. “Is that gonna be alright? I don’t remember seeing it at the market.”

Xena smirked, her eyes chips of fractured ice. 

“Just a scuffle on the way up. Ran into an old friend of mine.”

Gabrielle nodded, remembering that phrase well-enough from their road days. Xena didn’t have old friends.

“I see some things haven’t changed.” She tried to say it jokingly, but instead of drawing out the response she wanted, Xena’s stiff smile disappeared altogether. Her eyes shifted to a vague point over Gabrielle’s shoulder. 

“No,” she agreed quietly. “Nothing really ever does.”

What does that mean? Where have you been? What happened? 

The questions screamed through Gabrielle’s mind, but she clamped down on them before they could escape on her tongue. Instead, she settled for studying Xena’s face--mapping the fresh scars, probing the new creases, questioning the added shadows--looking for the cause of the misery behind them. She came up empty, but that was alright, for now. 

“I’ll get those bandages,” she said. And then, on a whim, she grabbed Xena’s hand right as she was about to leave the room, clasping it between both of her own. The warrior looked at the pale fingers entangled with her own in bewilderment. Gabrielle squeezed the scatter-scarred knuckles and roughened palms. Another thing that hadn’t changed. “It really is good to see you, Xena.”

Blue eyes raised to her own, and for a moment, Gabrielle saw the woman behind the warrior again. The one she’d only just begun to know all those years ago, who would occasionally glance up at her from across the fire, when it was just them and Argo. The one her young-self had all but worshipped, and she was realizing, barely understood. 

Again, a profound sadness fell over Gabrielle, but this time it was laced with hope. She smiled warmly at Xena, and then she left.

Chapter Text

Xena hadn’t been sitting there long when Tiresias filled the doorway. A guarded expression filled her face at the sight of the Rhapsode, and she waited for him to start. 

“I wanted to speak to you, Xena,” he said, stepping down into the room with his hands clasped in front of him. The benign expression he'd had in the entry hall had disappeared, and a steely intelligence had taken its place. 

Xena shifted, almost unconsciously, so she was sitting up taller. 

“Alright, so talk.”

Tiresias, irritatingly, didn't. Instead, he studied her for a long time. Not so much her body, like the hawkers and owners did, people looking for either strength or pleasure. But he stared straight into her eyes, as if he was trying to read her thoughts that way. 

It went on for long enough that Xena found herself relenting first. 

“Get on with it,” she snapped. “Gabrielle will be back any minute and you waited for her to leave for a reason.”

“Mm, true. Alright. See I've heard Gabrielle’s version of you, and I've heard about the Destroyer of Nations,” Tiresias paused, his milky blue eyes assessing her sharp and vibrant ones. “They are two vastly different impressions of you, I must say. So I wanted to come here, and form my own opinion.”

“Ah, I get it. You wanna know if I'm the crazy barbarian who's gonna slit your throats, and rob you blind, and then slit the throats of your apprentices, too, just to get my rocks off.” Xena smirked widely, mildly impressed when Tiresias remained placid-eyed. She would’ve expected some indignance from a wealthy, Athenian snob, but then maybe Tiresias was too intelligent for that.

“Don't worry, it's not really my thing,” Xena subsided, going back to picking at the edges of her leg wound. “Even in my worst days, I always enjoyed a good fight too much to go sneaking around killing academics in the dead of night. Your boys here are safe… and so is Gabrielle.”

“That's good,” Tiresias nodded, and Xena thought she saw a touch of mirth in his eyes. “But I was more concerned about you not honoring your contract. I've no intention of paying a bunch of guards to keep you here. Nor do I want the look of having you chained. And I'm no fool to think that you couldn't escape from here anytime you like. Your martial skill is the one thing both Gabrielle’s and everyone else's stories had in common. So as far as I take it, it's the truest thing I know about you.”

“Okay…” Xena said slowly, not quite sure where he was going with this. 

He was right that she was planning on escaping. She just hadn’t decided when yet. She wanted to see more of what the academy decided to do with her before she made a plan. And maybe give her ribs and leg a chance to heal a bit before she went scaling the walls of Athens. 

“As I see it, if the Destroyer of Nations sits before me, then she has no reason to stay, and I have no reason to want her in my academy. I'll let you leave. Right now.”

Tiresias let the offer hang in the air, and Xena had to admit that she found herself thrown off-guard again, which immediately made her wary.

“You'd let me leave… just like that?”

“Yes, I would. I don't want any innocent blood spilled needlessly.”

“And the catch?”

“There is no catch for the Destroyer. She is free to do as she pleases," Tiresias paused, leveling his gaze at her. “But I won't be able to hold back the rest of the council from taking legal action if you suddenly disappear. And I'm sure you know that debt is a bad position for an unmarried, fatherless, young woman to be in.”

Xena’s expression hardened.

“Is that a threat, old man?” she asked with deceptive calm. Tiresias shook his head. 

“No, it’s the truth. But I will admit to intentionally trying to make you feel guilty,” he answered coolly. “You were right when you said I was waiting for Gabrielle to leave the room earlier. She’s been your champion here since day one, and she may not talk about you much anymore, but I know that hasn't changed. She always jumps straight to your defense. It’s just, this time, she’s put herself in danger trying to protect you.”

“I never asked her to do that,” Xena retorted flatly, her fingers flexing around empty air. 

“Gabrielle has never been much for permission.” Tiresias shot back, raising a knowing brow. “Something I sense you two have in common.”

Xena met that with a moody silence, and Tiresias took it as the victory it was. He moved further into the room, bending slowly to take a seat on the low stool there. It seemed to take a lot of effort, and in her head, Xena morosely refused to help him up if he got stuck.   

“You know, if I’m being honest, I thought Gabrielle’s stories about you were made-up. I thought you were a convenient analogy. Using the legend of a woman warlord to make her point that a woman could join the academy as well. A clever parallel that I actually quite enjoyed,” the wizened Rhapsode chuckled softly and shook his head at himself. “I felt like quite the fool when the slavers shoved you through the doorway this morning. The Destroyer of Nations… Gabrielle’s friend… in the flesh, in my atrium.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Xena demanded, her gut curling a little at hearing those two titles beside each other. 

“Because I want you to understand how rare a soul like Gabrielle’s is,” Tiresias said seriously. “People love her stories, but very few believe they are true. They simply cannot. I know her, have heard some of her more personal accounts of you, and even still, I did not believe her. The sort of faith she put in you, her conviction that you were good when every city-state from here to Thrace would have you hang... It’s a rare and delicate thing, Xena, to have compassion and bravery exist in equal counts like that.” Tiresias paused, gathering himself back to his feet. He paced to the door, and remained quiet, weathered hands clasped peacefully in front of him. “This is Gabrielle’s home now. She’s thrived here. All I ask is that you don’t destroy that for her.”

The word destroy fell heavy between them, and Xena knew the rhapsode was talking about destroying more than just Gabrielle’s place in Athens. 

“I’m not the woman I was back then,” Xena said quietly, studying her scraped knuckles. 

“Yes, I’m sure that’s true,” Tiresias agreed. “As surely as Gabrielle is not the girl you once knew. What remains to be seen is what sort of woman you are now?”

Right at that moment, Gabrielle reappeared in the doorway with a woven basket full of linen. She froze when she saw Tiresias, her expression flitting quickly from surprise to cautiousness. 

“Everything alright in here, kyrios ?” she asked tentatively. 

The old man nodded, his reserved joviality returning in an instant. 

“Of course, my dear. I was just leaving.” He nodded at Xena. “Come to me, if you’d like this to be bloodless.”

Xena nodded stiffly in return, and watched the old man depart before returning to her slumped position. Gabrielle observed all of this with tight lips, stepping down into the room. 

“I don’t suppose you’d tell me what that was if I asked, would you?”

“Nope,” Xena responded succinctly. 

“Right,” Gabrielle said with a sigh, and flopped the wicker basket down on the bed. “Well, I got some fresh linens, and some tunics off of a few boys at the academy here. But what you really need is-”

“A bath,” Xena finished for her with a wry brow. Gabrielle wrinkled her nose. 

“I was gonna say water, but yeah. You smell like you spent a week at the bottom of a latrine.”

“Mm. Try two weeks in the bowels of a ship. It’s about the same thing.”

“Two weeks? That sounds awful,” Gabrielle said her voice tinged with genuine horror. Just the idea was making her a little green around the gills. She well remembered the time some of her academy friends had convinced her to take a skiff out past the port of Piraeus. It had been a short-lived adventure for her. “Where did you launch from?”

Gabrielle tried to ask it as casually as possible, like she was just making conversation, and not trying to pin down any details about what the Hades Xena had been up to lately. Or how she, of all people, ended up on a slave ship?

The rather unsubtle probe did not go unmissed by Xena, but she decided to answer anyway. With the same amount of forced nonchalance. 

“Tanais.”

Gabrielle’s green-eyes went wide. 

“Across the Maeotian Lake? You came from the end of the world?” she asked incredulously. 

Xena stared at her in bemusement. 

“What?”

She knew for a fact Tanais was not the end of the world. Not even close. 

“In the Argonautica, when Jason and his crew arrive at the mouth of the Tanais,” Gabrielle said, her mind clearly turning inward as she unspooled the epic in her mind. She’d had to memorize it in her third-year at the Academy. “They think they’ve reached the end of the world. That the river led down into the Underworld.”

Xena blinked, and let that sink in for a moment. Then she smiled wryly. 

“Well, I can tell you for certain that it doesn’t.”

Gabrielle scowled at her.

“No, I know that… I just,” she threw her hands up in the air. “It was important to the story.”

Xena grunted, but otherwise didn’t comment. What did she have to say about revered bardic texts?

“Anyways,” Gabrielle dismissed it, and somewhat grumpily began digging through the basket. She pulled out a men’s tunic and gave it a snap to shake it out. It was simple, and white, but clean. “This should do. We can get you real clothes soon, but this was all I could find that would fit you on short notice.”

“Yeah, not the first time the only thing I can fit in is for men. Won’t be the last,” she said with a sigh. 

It really didn’t matter to her. She’d been in and out of “men’s” clothing since she hit puberty. Partially by choice, and partially because she grew out of everything her mother sewed her, and she ended up wearing her brother’s hand-me-downs because she couldn’t keep up.

Xena shrugged off the thought of her family. She looked at the tunic and then casually lowered it back to the bed. 

“I don’t want to get it dirty. I’ll wait until after the bath.”

Gabrielle sent her a look of disbelief. Her gaze trailed down her body. Mud and grime spattered as it was, she was still only wearing a chest wrap and a loin cloth. It left a lot of skin to look at. 

Especially since she’s so gods-be-damned tall. 

“What? Xena. You can’t walk through Athens half... in your under...Not like this,” she finally bit out, tearing her eyes from the warrior's body and hoping she sounded angry. Not flustered. 

Gods, Gabrielle you’re not a kid anymore. Stop acting intimidated. 

Xena mercifully ignored the flush on her cheeks and quirked a sardonic brow instead. 

“You realize I already did, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but that wasn’t your choice. There are three tunics here. It’s fine if you get one dirty. I’ll wash it,” Gabrielle insisted, holding the cloth out to her. Xena’s lips twitched.

“Isn’t that my line, now?”

“You seem oddly at ease with this whole slave thing,” Gabrielle said with narrowed eyes. 

“Well, I know my domina would rather hug a bunny than hunt it. I’m not overly concerned,” Xena said wryly. Then she shrugged, wiping some grime off her arms. “Besides, I have gotten a little practice with this whole service thing.”

Gabrielle frowned in confusion.

“On the slave ship?”

“No,” Xena scoffed. She pointed at her own face. “I was less than a model passenger. You think I did anything for those bastards?”

“No, but then the Xena I knew never would’ve let herself get captured by slavers. I don’t really know what to think,” Gabrielle said honestly. She shook her head. “You changed the subject. Put this on.”

“Gabrielle-”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have you clean it. Xena, I’m not walking down the street with a half-naked warrior. People know me here and the gossip is already gonna be bad enough. Put it on. ”

“Gabrielle,” Xena repeated with a touch of exasperation. “I can’t.”

“What? Why are you fighting with me about this? Just-”

“I can’t lift my arms to get it over my head,” Xena finally bit out firmly. Gabrielle’s insistence evaporated. 

“Oh… Well, I could help you put it on,” she offered, already eyeing the bed for the added height she would need.

“Sure, if you wanna help me out of it, too.”

Gabrielle had been about to place her foot on the bed, but when Xena said that her balance swerved and she ended up stumbling clumsily into the wall. Xena jumped and steadied her with an arm, wincing and grabbing her ribs as she did. 

“Are you alright?” the dark-haired warrior asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Gabrielle said, hurriedly shrugging her off. “Just lost my balance.” Then she looked over and saw Xena still cradling her ribs. “Are you alright?”

“I will be,” she dismissed. “I just need to get these soaked and wrapped.”

“You’re right. Let’s go,” Gabrielle relented, folding the tunic back into the basket. “I’ll let you use the bath at my place while I run out and buy some medicinal herbs. Do you think you could give me a list? I’m afraid I forgot the names of the ones I memorized when we were traveling. It hasn’t come up much in the past few years.”

Gabrielle said it like it was something to be embarrassed about, that she hadn’t been getting poked full of holes and bruises, but Xena just smiled. 

“Sure, I’ll tell you what to look for.”

“Great. Are you good to walk?”

“Since I was one,” she dead-panned. 

“Tch, Xena. ” 

“ Gabrielle ,” she mimicked. 

“You’re worse than I remember,” the bard huffed, stepping out into the hallway. Xena followed, carefully. She’d taken her hand off her ribs, but more out of pride than any sort of lessening of the pain. She didn’t want to seem weak in a place that had as many eyes and wagging tongues as Athens. 

“And you’re just as clumsy.”

“I knew you weren’t going to let that go,” Gabrielle sighed. “Any chance you’ve gotten over the short jokes in your old age?”

“About as much as you’ve gotten over my age,” Xena said with an arched brow.

Gabrielle threw her head back in annoyance, but they were both hiding smirks as they climbed the stairs out of the lower halls of the academy.