XENA: GODDESS OF WAR

by dreamweaver

Disclaimer: Universal studios and others own the characters in the following story. I make no claim to them, this is only a work of fan fiction, and no copy write infringement is intended and no profit has been made on the part of the author.
Warning; this is meant for mature readers ONLY, please. The following paragraphs may contain at times graphic references to m/f, f/f sex and violence, so if you are under age or offended by such, please exit now and read something more appropriate.
This was inspired by some musings over at TX on why Xena wasn't a god after eating ambrosia in the Quest and by the movie Excalibur. It is written as one of Gabrielle's scrolls and is a stand-alone piece, so there won't be any sequels. The fifth part of '1001 Armageddon Nights' is on the way soon. 11.14.01.
I'd love to hear from you! imadreamweaver@aol.com

He was a sweet boy with a good heart, my husband Perdicus, and he was very dedicated to Xena, the Goddess of War. He went to Her temple often and the top of his helmet was crowned with a switch of black horsehair that represented the raven locks She was legendary for.

We had a very quick wedding ceremony that day, along with several other young couples, which were quickly sanctifying their love before our young men rode off to join in the fighting. Young men can be such fools about war; they could not wait to leave lest all the excitement be over before they got there. And I worried about my man, he was not a killer, I knew; he had problem enough ending a chicken's life for dinner.

So that's all we had time for, an all too quick wedding and a few kisses before they all rode off. I was left standing there with a handful of wildflowers, feeling no more like a wife than the day before. How I busied myself for the rest of the day is hardly worth a mention, except to say that it was filled with the usual doings and a talk with my mother about what men and women do when they are married. For I was yet untouched, a virgin. Being the gentleman that he was, Perdicus and I had shared nothing more adventurous than kissing and handholding.

Imagine my surprise then; when he suddenly appeared in my room that night, just after the sun set and I had lighted a single candle. I ran to him and hugged him hard and kissed lips. I had so many questions. Why and how had he come back? Was the war over? Did the army's commanders know he was gone? He simply held me out from him and looked me over from head to foot, with a strange look in his eye that I'd never seen before. It was like he was seeing me for the first time.

“I didn't realize how beautiful you are Gabrielle, until now.” He placed a fingertip to my lips. “I must be gone by the morning.”
Before I could answer, he had me in a strong embrace and was kissing me with a passion that I had never experienced with him before. It both excited and frightened me a little. I felt like he was trying to devour me with his mouth on my mouth and throat. I tried to speak, but found that I did not have the breath to. Only a whispery gasp came out. With both hands he tore my gown off both my shoulders, baring me to my waist. For a moment he paused and looked at my naked breasts, whispering that he had dreamed of this moment for so long. I was near to telling him that so had I, when his eyes rose to meet mine again, stilling the words in my throat. If he did not look exactly like my sweet Perdicus, I could have sworn he was a complete stranger, at least from the way he looked at me. The rest of my gown was just as quickly dispensed with and I found myself lying flat on my back on my little bed, watching my husband as he slowly removed his armor and clothes. I tried to cover my breasts and privates with my hands, having never been naked in front of another before.

“Don't hide yourself, Gabrielle, I want to look at you.” At this, I obediently moved my arms to my sides. “You're perfect, Gabrielle, so beautiful and so perfect.”

Having shed every stitch of his own clothing, he lay next to me. I was still too shy to look toward his manhood. “I want to take my time with you Gabrielle.” And he did, slowly exploring ever inch of my flesh with his hands, followed by his voracious mouth. Again I felt like I was being devoured, as he kissed me over my chest and belly, worshiping my breasts and sucking on my nipples with a strength that nearly made me faint with the sensations.

I came close to fainting many times that night, and I still can't say for sure that I did not. I came close when he put his head between my legs and commenced to kissing and enjoying me there. Though I had never heard of this before. The act was enough to have me writhing and crying out loud for him to stop before I went mad. Just when I though I could not stand any more, he rose above me and entered me.

Though it felt too large for my body to accommodate, there was no pain, as I was taught to expect. The heat of it filled me with warmth all over and I quickly experienced my first ecstasy. I cried real tears of joy and clutched him close to me.
“You are mine now, Gabrielle. I love you so.” He whispered in my ear. And I willingly submitted to him, everything he did to me felt so exhilarating. It felt good to be rid of my own inhibitions.

I won't go into details about how many different ways that he showed me and told me that he loved me through that night, except to say that he must have exhausted every possible way known to man on me. And my mother had told me that a man was only good for a few minutes, and not at all when drunk! With a loud, painful sounding groan he finally finished near dawn. He was making love to me from behind when I felt his hot essence fountain inside of me. I collapsed on my bed, too spent to do anything but sleep. And I did sleep so soundly that I missed seeing him leave. I was so sad that it was over.

My mother pounding on my door and telling me to come quickly roused me that morning. I had only enough time to pull a blanked around my shoulders before leaving my room, on legs made weak by too much love. Seeing how unsteady my legs were; my mother and grandmother helped me down the stairs to our small courtyard. They had both been crying the whole way but could not find voice to tell me why. That's when I saw; my father and some other men standing by a small wagon, that I knew was meant to convey the bodies of dead warriors to their home. My father lifted the blanket from a body just long enough for me to see that it was my Perdicus; a gaping wound visible in the middle of him.

I screamed and hid my face in my mother's bosom. They told me it had happened that night. I wanted to ask how when he had been in my bed the whole of that time, but I held my tongue and fainted instead.

It was soon apparent a few moons later that I was with child, and the village busybodies deduced that Perdicus and I must have 'rolled in the hay' before our little wedding. I did not correct any of their stories, with a truth that would be far less believable. At least I was a respectable widow when my son was born.

If from the delirium of pain or loss of blood, I hardly know, but I swear that I could see a beautiful lady standing in the corner of the room watching as I gave birth. Mother, Lila and grandmother kept asking me what I was talking about, as they could not see Her, but She was clear as day to me.

And She appeared again when I woke to suckle my son in the middle of that night. She was tall, taller than Perdicus, as tall as my father at least, and Her flowing hair was black as midnight. She was naked except where Her magnificent body was adorned with silver armor and high boots. A large broadsword was sheathed across Her back. A mortal might have needed more than just their privates covered against the night chill, but a god feels no cold. My mother and grandmother still dozed soundly in the chairs by my bed, oblivious to Her presence, our dog whined and left with his tail between his legs. I bowed my head, hoping She had not come to steal my infant son away from me. A smile played across Her full red lips as She gently stroked his head.

“You have my favor, Gabrielle.” Her gloved hand raised my chin to face Her and She kissed me with all the passion of a lover. Her breath and lips were hot, but they did not burn me. It was a kiss I was familiar with from nine moons ago, when my husband returned unexpectedly from war, one that I now knew was Hers and not his. I wanted more. My heart was filled with such love for Her.

“I often do visit wives when their husbands are at war,” She said, answering my silent question, “not always with such fine results. You should name him Ares.” That I did. And silently I begged that She return to me some day.

When next the moon was full; The Goddess of War came to me and loved me again, this time as Herself and not disguised as my poor husband. She came and warmed my bed on each and every moon thereafter.

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