This story is basically a "missing scenes" story to the Xena episode DESTINY. Beth Gaynor in her review of this episode for Whoosh says

This episode's got a little of everything. Some head-banging battles (including the lethal crotch hit - yeow!), some pretty scenery. Some nasty Xena badness, some sweet bardly goodness. Some nasty, simple background on the Warrior Princess, some subtle poking into her psyche. Fun for everyone, unless possibly you have a personal thing against piracy."

I hope this story does the same. It is a sequel to my two stories SACRIFICE and BE CAREFUL XENA. It attempts to explain how Xena could have been Ares's "star pupil" as Strife calls her in the Hercules episode WHEN A MAN LOVES A WOMAN and yet she can tell him in THE RECKONING that she had always wondered what his face would look like. It has a little slash, a little subtext, a little het, and a little voyeurism. Bad words and sex acts make it NC-17. Plus it contains the line for the December KSAres challenge. Fun for everyone, unless possibly you have a personal thing against McJude.

I want to thank amorette for about two dozen commas and Julia for some godly motivation. Also thanks to a lot of people on a couple of BB's for discussions involving this episode that helped with the motivations.

THE BEST LAID PLANS

The young dark-skinned woman kept looking back over her shoulder for the captors from whom she had escaped, but who, she was certain, were still pursuing her. She had run along the water's edge to hide her tracks; but when she had to traverse the wet sand beach to climb the rocks, there was no hiding her footprints. She was certain that they would want her badly enough to look long and hard, so she had to keep running.

As she was looking back she was not aware that the large man with whom she collided had not been there a second before. He had materialized in the grassy meadow and stood there, dressed in black leather, arms folded in front of him, smiling softly as she struck him full force.

She surveyed him with her large black eyes. The hair on her neck stood up and her muscles tensed. She let out a hiss like that of a cobra or a cornered cat. Puckering her lips she expectorated a large glob that missed his face but hit him on his broad shoulder.

"Excuse me." He obviously had not expected that. He stepped back a pace and quietly walked around her, looking her up and down, while trying to figure out what to do about her insult on his dignity. "I'm not going to hurt you. I am here to help."

It took her a second to realize that he was speaking to her not in the language of the Gaels, or the Romans or even the language of the land of the pharaohs, but in the tongue she had heard her grandmother sing in the land of flat rivers and tall grasses. She had never heard a white man speak her language. She also realized that she was not running because she could not move. It was as if her feet were at least temporarily adhered to the spot where she was standing.

She reached for a piece of rag that she carried tucked in the waistband of her skirt and removed her spit from his shoulder. He smiled in thanks. She did not return the smile.

"Come. We'll be more comfortable in the shade of that tree." He indicated a large spreading tree that she was quite certain she had not seen when she started running across the field. She looked down at her feet, unsure as to whether she could move.

"I've released you. Now come. I have things I need to discuss with you."

She frowned. Restrictions and captivity she understood; discussion was a word with which she was not familiar.

"You . . . you are a shaman . . . a sorcerer?" She used the language of her captives as she did not feel comfortable using her language with him.

"Well, I guess you could call me that. I'm a God. The name is Ares, and I have a job for you M'lila."

"You know my name, my language?"

"I've heard a lot about you. Several of my warriors told me about an escaped slave who has fights with moves like they have never seen before."

She smiled with pride.

"I understand you can kill a man with just a touch."

"A pinch."

"And I understand that you are trying to get away from here. Back to your homeland, and for that you need to secure passage on a ship."

"Yes."

"Well, I have a treat for you M'lila. In a few days a ship will pass by here, and you be able to stow away on it to obtain safe passage back to the land of the pharaohs. I am certain that you will find the captain of this ship most interesting. Someone who needs to be taught all that you know about fighting like those fancy kicks and chops you have used to create a name for yourself from here to eastern Gael, and that pinch, it can be most useful not only to kill but to secure information."

She did not know what to say. Here was a man, who claimed he was a god, positively commenting on her fighting style that he admitted he had never seen. None of the gods she had heard about in her short lifetime had those powers. She was struck with a sense of awe that almost overcame her disbelief.

"How do I know that the captain of this ship will not just sell me back to my former captors? They are willing to pay a high price. They think I am a witch."

"You will be most useful to the captain."

"As a teacher, but after he had learned everything -- or what he thinks is enough?"

"The captain of this ship is a she, and I am certain that even after she thinks she has learned everything you will have secrets to share with her which will keep her intrigued day and night."

'So,' she thought, 'He knows that secret, too.'

* * * * * *

They spent the next two days along the edge of the sea. He had been right; no one had followed her. She had been right; he made no attempt to exert his masculine sexual power, with which he reeked, upon her. Instead he had her teach him her fighting moves, treating her with the respect of a master. He had no desire to learn the "pinch" citing that he had other methods of incapacitating humans and that it would not work on gods.

He watched with delight as she showed him how she could catch a rabbit by outrunning it and she watched in awe as he secured fresh water by sinking a tree branch into the earth. She had never considered herself a god -- just someone trained in the old ways. She wondered why he had decided that his powers were such that they elevated him to the status of a deity.

"The ship should arrive tomorrow. I understand that her advance party is out scouring the countryside for captives to hold for ransom. The lady likes her gold." He shook his head.

"You care for this woman, don't you?" There was something behind his black eyes that led M'lila to ask, not sure that even he knew the answer.

"Nah, she's just one of my warriors. You know about my warriors don't you?"

'Ah, finally he is coming on to me,' she thought. She had been waiting for that move, at which time she would have to kill him. She had heard stories about a god that had demanded that men and woman in order to achieve the status of warrior submit to him in the act of oral sex. They were to fall on their knees before him and eat his seed. She had been waiting for that. A small dagger was concealed in her bodice. No one would eat from this man, again, after she finished with him.

"And you want me to be one of your warriors, too." She had a faint innocence in her voice and smile.

"You? Hell no, a witch like you would bite my cock off without thinking twice. I don't need you fighting on my side, I just need you to want to get away badly enough to teach Xena a thing or two. Now relax, sit by me until morning, and I will tell you about a woman who is going to conquer the world."

* * * *

Sometime before morning she had fallen asleep with her head on his lap. The night had seemed short when there was so much to discuss. He had told the Xena story, how she had come to him, barely more than a child, seeking fighting skills to protect her village but professing a desire to do more. He continued to tell M'lila about Xena's small armies and success in battles. Now, as a pirate, she was in search of gold, gold that she would use to raise larger armies to someday achieve her stated goal of ruling the world. That would not be an easy task. His job was to teach, to council, and to protect; but it was in his best interest to have her feel that she was learning all these things on her own.

M'lila related her story, grisly with beatings, brandings and rapes. Gods were aware of the plight of slaves, yet those humans sworn to them had deemed slaves necessary, so they did not interfere. She told of her travels from Africa to Egypt to Gael. She also told of her experiments with magic and with the healer on Mt. Nessus who knew secrets of the human body that even he, as a god, did not know. She told him about blood circulation, pressure points, healing herbs and nerve stimulation. She had seen more of the world than most of his fellow Olympian gods. Perhaps, a road trip or two might be necessary.

M'lila had a way of questioning him that cut to his core. Hitting him in places that he usually didn't allow to be revealed. Especially when it came to Xena. He had always told himself that she was no different than the other women warriors who had fought for him over the years. There were not a lot of these women; he had always held them in highest regard, yet they had always disappointed him. The same fire that made them fight made them lust. Lusting for him was OK. He had produced bastard children who grew to be fine warriors. It was when they lusted after other human males and gave up their fighting ways to be mothers. Xena was going to be different. He had found a way to channel her lust in a direction that would not result in pregnancy and he was going to have a fun time watching.

"Why do you bother with humans?" She asked with languid eyes, heavy with sleep. It was as if she had just one more question she needed to ask before departing on the journey that she thought would take her home.

"I don't know. I kind of like them. Watching them in the heat of battle. The power. . . the passion. . .the danger. ..the courage. Hell, it's a fun way to wile away eternity. Got to do something."

"In life we are but a dream from heaven," she sighed, "in heaven they are but a dream from chaos."

"What in the fuck are you talking about, girl?"

"Humanity, the gods, we all are but dreams. Those who think that there can be control, either on earth or in heaven, are the biggest dreamers of them all."

She closed her eyes and fell asleep

* * * * *

The anticipation was intoxicating. Gods usually went for immediate gratification, but Ares had found that in some cases the preparation was almost as enjoyable as the actual event. After all there are only so many things you can do with a human during an act of sex. As much as you try to prolong it, when they finish, you are left with but the memory. Why not cultivate the anticipation?

M'lila had been stowed in a barrel on Xena's ship as it came ashore to wait for the advance party to return with hostages. He did not stay. Xena always claimed she could sense his presence, and he wanted her to accept M'lila without realizing that she had been a gift from him. He had other things to think about right now.

Tonight would a special night. Tonight one of his favorite warriors would not only kneel and take his cock in his mouth but would bow and allow him to force himself into his ass. The great would be humbled before the God of War. Ares had to prepare. Make himself ready. Anticipate. Tonight the adoration would come from the most powerful of men. Caesar.. Julius Caesar.

Caesar's goal, like Xena's was to conquer the world. He, too, had sworn to be Ares's warrior in a ceremony usually reserved only for Greek warriors. Despite the fact that Caesar called his god of war Mars, he had known that the dark leather clad presence who came to him in his dream was someone to be reckoned with. He had dutifully performed the act and gone even further in allowing the god more gratification. Ares was pleased and always came back for more. Caesar had a better chance of achieving his goal and was fun in bed, but Ares secretly hoped Xena would beat him.

He felt like his sister Aphrodite as he languished in a pool of warm water left in a cave after high tide and carefully groomed his hair and beard. He was dusty and dirty, smelling vaguely of that black witch; a smell he knew Caesar would notice and treat with disdain. The bastard, despite his entourage of whores, expected HIM to be clean. He should stop by one of those whores, or better yet one of his smelly warriors, and come to him unwashed. He was the God after all. Caesar was just one of his warriors. Still he was washing, relaxing, even singing with anticipation of the night. As God of War he deserved a good lay, while Xena was being taught a few lessons.

* * *

Ah, the choices. Should he hide in the shadows on Caesar's tent and watch him undress before going to bed? Should he hide in the bed, materialize in his lover's ass while Caesar stroked his cock before sleeping? Should he appear in front of the army, give them a little pep talk and walk off with Caesar arm and arm, so everyone would know of his favor and fight that much harder tomorrow? The possibilities were endless and each more pleasurable.

He decided on the quiet, almost human approach. He would stroll into camp and ask to meet with the leader. Those who were sworn to him would recognize him of course, but they would say nothing. It was part of their vow. His protection was always there for them, as their loyalty there for him. He was such a shrewd dealer. When Caesar arrived, they would casually share a meal and some good wine lying beside each other on the Roman couch. It was such a genteel way to dine, so sensual. The anticipation would continue as they walked to his tent. He knew Caesar would be hard under his toga -- ready for a climax that would not come until his god would be completely satisfied.

"Damn." He had cum just thinking about him. It was not in a god's best interest to have mortals that did that to you. Plus he was going to have to wash again, and the warm water would make him hard again and perhaps. "Damn." Cold water, from the waterfall, was the only solution and maybe a hit of hashish. That usually helped.

Calmed, cleaned and adjusted, he continued with his plan. The cooking fire had been banked and the evening perimeter fires lit. His timing was perfect. He strolled in and caught the eye of a red-haired warrior he remembered had come from the Northland. The man bowed his head slightly acknowledging the recognition of the god of war. Ares shook his head and continued. This man was not of high enough rank to have access to Caesar. He needed a general.

The general and four or five of his top ranked men were gathered together, reading a scroll and talking among themselves. Ares joined the circle and was immediately acknowledged by each as a visiting warlord and not the god each man knew.

"I'm looking for Caesar. We had an appointment for dinner."

"I'm sorry. He's not here." A man he knew as Brutus said to him.

"Not here, where is he." He wanted to roar. How could Caesar have moved on without his blessing?

"Look. But don't say anything. If the men find out we may have an uprising."

Ares glanced at the scroll. It was written in awkward Greek with bad spelling and punctuation. It said. "I has Julius Caesar, and I demands a ransom 100,000 dinars in gold." It was signed Xena. Looks like he was going to have to send a tutor her way, too.

* * * * *

He had convinced them that they were better off paying the ransom. Xena didn't want to fight; she just needed money. It was obvious from the small amount she had demanded that she had no idea who Julius Caesar was. Hopefully she wouldn't feel that she had been shortchanged when she learned what a prize she had let go so cheaply. But she would have a better prize in M'lila there in her bed to keep her warm in the cold marine air and teach her things she had only dreamed about.

Back in his cave, with a large skin of wine he had stolen from Caesar's camp, he pictured the two women together. Naked and intertwined, white and black, large breasts and small. He pictured Xena helpless as M'lila's tongue found places tucked in her private recesses that no male lover, however talented, had ever reached. Xena was a quick learner. It was just a matter of time until she would be turning the tables on M'lila and exerting her own brand of sexual control.

Once again he had spoiled himself, but he didn't feel as if he needed to wash. When he materialized on Xena's ship to watch M'lila in bed with her, he would stand in the shadows and probably cum again, more than once. The need to actually watch them was too strong to take time to wash. They would never know he was there.

* * * * *

The witch evidently had other secrets. It was obvious now that she had an olisbos stowed away in her clothing, perhaps she had even kept it secreted inside her, or maybe she had been creative and fashioned one from a rolling pin or the end of an oar. Whatever, she was now using it on Xena. Still wearing a dress as beautiful as any he had ever seen on a woman, hair pinned up, make-up perfectly applied, she lay back on the bed so covered with skins and sheets that it hid M'lila and fondled her own crotch while being penetrated anally from below. He'd never even though of that scenario. He had to hand it to the girl for being creative.

Xena, as usual, was taking her own sweet time, writhing silently on the bed. She'd fight her sexual surrender like the warrior she was, not wanting to give up control, but knowing that when it was time she would melt, usually under her own fingers. Ares always loved watching her cum.

He wanted her so to melt that way with him, but it was not yet her time to do so. She had to prove to herself that she could conquer the world as her own warrior. She had no desire to be a wife of a general, or a king, and especially not of the god of war. He knew that and didn't ask. With him, she had always held back. Success had to be on her terms, the same as her orgasms.

He wanted her so badly. He wanted to slam his cock into her and split her in half. Give her the seed of a god in a place where it wouldn't be washed away. Damn he was so much better than a stick of wood, even if it was wielded by a witch. Why had he done this? How could these two women make him feel so out of control? He fondled himself as he watched her to the same. They came simultaneously but independently.

He was finished, but she wasn't. She turned over and crawled into the covers, like a hungry animal in search of carrion, she dug through the layers of bedclothes. He felt sorry for the witch when Xena got to her, perhaps she would kill her by devouring her body and soul . .

His heart stopped beating. A god didn't need a heart and he didn't need to breathe. At the moment, that was important because he could not do either. Xena had moved the covers revealing the person in bed with her, the person on whom she had done her lustful dance. No . . . he was fortunate that his scream could not be heard by Xena. He was sure his fellow gods heard it on far away Olympus. The person in Xena's bed was not the talented witch M'lila, but his former lover, Julius Caesar.

* * * *

Self-preservation demanded that he remove himself to the shore. He could have killed both of them. Perhaps he should have. Yet Ares was smart enough to realize that with one fireball he could have ended his two best chances for both world domination and sexual fulfillment. The two people, male and female, who most excited him, in whom he had placed his hopes for the future, had betrayed him -- with each other. He wondered if they had sat together drinking wine comparing their conscription to his service or if they both of them had kept THAT secret from each other. That was more likely. Caesar wasn't one to talk, and Xena wasn't one to gloat. They probably had thought they were seducing each other with sexy talk and wine. Both were convinced they were in total control. . . and both of them had been wrong.

It was a bad trait in humans. They didn't think about gods when they were hot with passion. He was sure that both of them thought only of themselves and their pleasure. He was their god, but he was not always on their minds. He tried to collect himself, convince himself that . . . .

Nah, it wasn't going to work. Xena had to be taught a lesson. At least, he chuckled to himself, she had taken Caesar in a way that wouldn't result in pregnancy. The woman had some smarts about her. Still, if he knew Caesar, he was probably putting an end to that right about now. What if the two of them had a child? That child might take over the world without the gods. The dreaded twilight. He'd have to talk to Aphrodite immediately to see that that didn't happen. But what was he going to do about Xena?

Caesar was easy. A little pain, a good ass fucking, loss of part of his army, the usual. He'd know. He'd realized that he'd fucked with the God of War one too many times and he would pay his penitence dutifully. He didn't worry about Caesar. He did worry about Xena.

The idea was so simple it made him laugh out loud. He could teach Xena what it was like to live without the God of War. All he had to do was perform a simple trick the gods do all the time. Wipe her memory clean of ever knowing him. He was one smart bastard. In another two weeks, or maybe two months if she decided to take the witch back to Egypt rather than throwing her overboard, Xena would be in his temple on her knees willing to sacrifice whatever to be a warrior. This time he would do it right. Not let her mess around on him like she had. They could get ready to take on the world in an orderly fashion.

He flashed himself to the ship and stood behind her. She always claimed she could sense his presence, but tonight she had no idea he was there. He ran his hand over her forehead and resisted the urge to kiss the back of her neck. All she would have now was a little headache but tomorrow she would have no memory of the God who had taught to be a warrior. Just for the fun of it, he gave her this thing about girls, too.

* * * *

Xena stared out over the flat sea. Perhaps the constant squinting to see the far horizon, searching for Caesar's ship had been what was giving her headaches. It seemed that the time she had not spent learning the fighting ways of the black stowaway Caesar had told her was called M'lila were spent thinking about him. The money she had received in ransom had not been successful in procuring an army. Caesar had been at each port first, grabbing up all the best warriors leaving her the old men and the boys. The only path she could foresee was to combine her forces with Caesar. They had combined so well in the past; it only seemed logical. She had learned today that she was not with his child, so she didn't have to worry about that. There had to be a way to avoid that; she thought she had figured it out, but Caesar was so damn persistent.

She felt confident that with a few more sessions with M'lila she would know all she could teach. Having the witch around made her uncomfortable, especially when she looked at her with those puppy dog eyes as if she expected to be invited to her bed. Where would she get an idea like that? Xena liked men, big powerful men, not little girls who pretended they had powers.

Thinking about her made her head throb as well as her groin. She hated that feeling. She couldn't wait to throw her overboard. The first sight of Caesar's ship and she was gone.

* * *

Caesar lay on his dining couch and ran the goblet of honey wine over his lips. He'd feasted on peacock remembering with glee how Ares had told him that the bird was sacred to Hera, queen of the Greek gods. He was about to eat snow that runners had brought from the mountains and covered with nuts and honey. The feel of it melting in his mouth was indescribable. Few men had the power to indulge in such treats. He doubted if Ares and his fellow gods dined so well.

He'd sent out a call for a virgin. A hairless girl or boy to spend some time in his bed. The blood and pain brought him pleasure. When they were virgins the torture came from within. He did not need to rely on cuffs or collars or whips, just the innate fear that lives in all humans. He felt like a god when he took a virgin. He'd acted like a god today. He deserved a treat. Maybe he was becoming a god.

Ares had strutted in and paced before him. It was so yesterday. Hell, yesterday the peacock had strutted through the campsite; today he was a pile of bones on Julius Caesar's plate. Who needed a god of war who was worshiped in just a minor portion of your empire? Every country had a god of war; he, Caesar, would dominate over all of them. Replace them. Ares remained silent and continued to pace.

"Xena." He boomed.

"Yea, what about her?" Caesar answered nonchalantly.

"She's mine." Ares eyes glowed with a touch of red.

"She never told me that." He smiled coyly. "She never told me that when she invited me to her quarters for dinner.

"She never told me that when we shared food, wine and innuendo.

"She never told me that when she invited me into her bed. She never told me that when she, after sucking me off and allowing me to fuck her in her ass until she howled like a banshee, and then begged me to fuck her so she could carry my child."

Ares stood silently. He had gotten there late and left early. He didn't know the details.

"She never told me that when our ships reunited. When she offered me her army.

"You know, Ares, you'd think, if she were yours, she probably would have told me today. Today when I had my men nail her to a cross, lift her up and plant her beside the ocean, and break her legs so she would die crushed under her own weight. Your name never came up, Ares. Not once."

"NNNNOOOOO" Ares roared. He rushed the smaller man and held his dagger to his throat. "Where is she?"

"At a start of line of crucified corpses that will stretch to the ends of Rome. Telling the world not to mess with Caesar, Julius Caesar."

* * *

He could kill Caesar later, right now his one thought was to try to save Xena.

From above it was easy for a god to spot the line of crosses, but the lead one, the one that had born Xena, was empty. There were other members of her crew, warriors sworn to Ares who were dead and dying. He did what he could to make them comfortable and may have actually saved a few. Despite the fact that it was summer the air was freezing cold, and yet sweat poured from his body. The god had lost control.

To whom does a god pray?

He found himself thinking about M'lila and her concept of the gods as being just a dream from chaos. Perhaps she knew something. He would never know. He would never know what happened to Xena. Was her body carried away by animals, by raiders, or even worse? He didn't have the strength to think about the worse.

His mind allowed him to construct a scenario with which he could continue. Perhaps M'lila had found Xena and taken her. Perhaps she had taken her to a land far away, not the land of the pharaohs, for she couldn't get there without a boat, but to Mt. Nessus. The land where the healer Niklio could restore her body with his herbs and needles and nurse her back to health.

Xena would be born again. Her will to fight and her desire to conquer the world would come back even stronger. Some day he would see her again, she would be the conqueror; she would stop Caesar. Kill Caesar, like he should have just done, and didn't. Couldn't? The only problem would be that when she took control of the world she would not remember him, what he had done for her, or that he once loved her. He'd have to face that challenge when the time came. In the meantime he was ARES GOD OF WAR!!!

McJude

December 2002