Journey's End

by LJ Maas

  THE CONQUEROR SERIES

  TALE ONE

  JOURNEY’S END

  BY LJ MAAS

  Ebook by

  PDAFiction.com

  DISCLAIMER: Xena, Gabrielle, Argo, etc. are ©copyright MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. I don’t own them, I just play with them for a while and, like the good girl I am, I put them back when I’m done... okay, they get a little worn, but hey... I play hard! Absolutely no Copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this fiction. It’s intended as flattery toward the creators, writers, and actors of the characters. All other characters that appear are ©copyright Devlin@xenafan.com. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies may be made for private use only and I’d appreciate if you included all copyright notices and this disclaimer.

  VIOLENCE WARNING: There is violence (come on it’s the Conqueror). The nature of the story is not nearly as dark as some Conqueror fiction, but it’s essence is still the slave / master relationship that exists between Xena & Gabrielle.

  TIMELINE: My own making. Xena is the Lord, Conqueror of Greece, but she is almost forty-five years old when she meets the slave, Gabrielle. Many of Xena’s evil ways have been sedated, but not all. I call this Xena the “thinking woman’s” Conqueror. She is a woman who wants to try to do the right thing, but doesn’t always know how.

  SEX: Yes, I’ll have some, thank you. Ooops! I mean, yes there is. It is our favorite two Soulmates, after all. It’s not gratuitous, but it is quite explicit when it gets going. This story shows consensual as well as non-consenting love (master/slave), sex and yes, even some light bdsm between two adult females.

  HIGH ANGST WARNING: I was threatened within an inch of my life if I didn’t start putting this disclaimer on some (all?) of my work. I will henceforth rate the angst content with sad faces, one being the lowest and four being the highest. This story earns 2 sad faces

  UNDERAGE WARNING: Hey, the Supreme Court said in Reno v. American Civil Liberties Union (1997) that laws against making available, online, certain “indecent” materials for those under 18 was unconstitutional... look it up! Besides, this is perfectly “decent.”

  I only know how others feel about my stories from feedback. Let me know what you think... homophobes need not apply, however. I’m at:

  webmistress@art-with-attitude.com

  Special thanks to Jim Kuntz for his permission in using any Lion of Amphipolis references.

  JOURNEY’S END

  PROLOGUE

  WHAT AN ODD PLACE to start a tale, at the end, but that is the way she says it is to be told and who am I to argue. I am only the ruler of this land known as Greece and she my slave, but even that will change in three days time. My birth name is Xena, I am from Amphipolis, but most of this land knows me by my title, Lord Conqueror. It has been many seasons since anyone has called me Xena, yet now I hear it everyday, and it thrills my heart. I never would have known how exciting the sound of my own name rolling from a lover’s tongue could be, had it not been for her.

  She tells me I am getting ahead of myself, talking about her, and I shush her and push her away from my writing table. First, she wants me to start at the end, now she says I go too fast. Gods, she is the paradox of my life. She alone holds the power to cause me to fall on my knees, professing my love for her. She alone can inflame me to moments of kindness and passion, and it is her also who can anger me until my arms go weak with the strain of not striking out at her. She is light and I am dark. I used to think I could survive alone in my darkness, but it was she who told me that dark does not exist without light, that we would not know one, if it were not for the other.

  Now she tells me to explain what I mean by starting at the end. I hand her the quill and tell her to write since she obviously thinks I cannot. She smirks at me and turns away and I realize it was not that long ago that she would have been beaten to death for an act of insolence like that, and yes, beaten by me. My life has only held darkness, death, and destruction since my fifteenth summer. Numerous bards have regaled you with tales of my life already so I will not repeat the details here. Suffice to say that all the dark, hateful, lewd things that you have read about Xena, the Conqueror are absolutely true. Oh, there may be a few that have exaggerated, but most paint an accurate portrait of me. At least that was the me of my youth. I was filled with unquenchable appetites, of which sex and bloodlust where only two. I was insatiable whether it was in bed or on the battlefield and my temper and my orgies were both legendary.

  I was in my forty-fourth summer when she came into my life. That is what I mean by starting at the end. Not that forty-four is by any means the end of my life, for now it feels like only the beginning, but I came to a point, before she came, where it certainly felt like the end. It is true that once I passed the age of forty, I finally began an attempt to temper my darkness, but only just. I was still a woman prone to violent fits of rage and jealousy, and my libido was still as strong as a warrior half my age, but by the time I was 44, I was slowing, not physically, but mentally. It was mostly because my life seemed very empty, that the only thing that surrounded me everyday was loneliness. The absolute truth is that for the better part of my life I neither cared nor loved anyone, well almost, but I suddenly felt alone because of it. Therefore, instead of becoming bitter in my solitude, I worked at becoming better. I began to temper my judgments with leniency; I tried not to destroy things when I lost my temper, and most of all I tried very hard to treat the people around me, slave or nobleman, with more respect than I had in the past. I suddenly felt my age. I think many of those close to me thought it was madness or senility, although I noticed they never asked for the old Xena back. I’ll admit that there were days when my newfound maturity was thrown out with the bathwater and I reverted back to my old ways, but I tried, nonetheless.

  The truth is that the story of the Conqueror does not begin until she steps into the tale. For, the tale of the Conqueror cannot be accurately told without telling of Gabrielle.

  CHAPTER 1

  A MEETING WITH DESTINY

  “LORD CONQUEROR, IT is an honor to fight beside you in battle.” The Governor of Thessaly said as he grasped my strong arm with an equally powerful hand.

  I had been brooding of late, missing what I didn’t have, yet unable to formulate what the missing factor was in my life that caused me to be so out of sorts. The small civil war that broke out on the coast, near Ambracia, gave me a reason to get out of the palace at Corinth. I think I surprised quite a few men on the battlefield today, my own as well as the enemy. The bloodlust no longer ran as strong in me, but it was enough to turn me into a terror on the field of war.

  “Tell, me Telamon,” I asked the Governor, “Do you expect any more trouble from these coastal pirates?”

  Telamon was a short man, yet full of muscle, and the appointed official laughed heartily. “I believe, Lord Conqueror, that all I will have to do in the future is to tell them that the Conqueror of Greece will ride against them and they will scurry like rats from a burning ship.”

  A number of cries and one or two screams were heard from the great hall and we all seemed to move that way as the female prisoners were brought through. It was customary for the official of the area to take his pick of the female prisoners before they were sold as slaves on the auction block. So, Telamon’s Lieutenant, Darius, brought the lot through for inspection.

  “Lord Conqueror,” Telamon began, “I respectfully offer to you, my customary pick.

  I sighed. They always did this, thinking to gain my favor. Some, honorable men like Telamon, did it simply because it was the respectful thing to do. Only problem was that I hated it. Oh, there was a time when I would try to ascertain which among them was a virgin, then that’s the one I would break in as my newest bod
y slave, but life was much different for me now. I hadn’t shared my bed with anyone beyond the occasional whore for the past two seasons. It worried me at times, as to why my sexual drive deserted me. However, I still had a reputation to keep up, so I usually took a girl and made a great pretense of sitting her on my lap all night while my soldiers and I drank until dawn. I would make sure everyone heard my lewd remarks and saw the way I touched her. Then when the sun came up, I would end up passing out in bed and the next day my captain, Atrius, would find the girl work in the castle kitchen.

  I fixed a leer on my face and added a little exaggerated swagger to my stride as I strolled past the women, young and old, that had been taken from the pirates. Most left quite a bit to be desired and I was just to the point of refusing the Governor’s first choice when two women stepped apart and behind them a blonde head hung down, staring at her bare feet. Now, I don’t know why the girl caught my attention. I couldn’t even see her face and she was a tiny thing, Gods, I’d probably break her like a twig if I’d had any inclination to bed her. There was something about this one though.

  When I walked toward the girl the people in front of her stepped away. She never looked up, but she must have known I stood before her by the shadow I made across her body. I reached out two fingers and lifted her chin. I’m not sure how long I stood there not breathing, but I know that I had to clear my throat to cover the large gulp of air I finally took in. She had irises the color of an early morning forest, all lush and green. She tried to lower her eyes from mine even though I now held her chin firmly tilted up in my grasp.

  “Look at me.” I ordered and she hesitantly raised her eyes to meet mine.

  She seemed unable to fix her eyes on me and lowered them again, submissively. I moved my hand up to brush away the locks of dirty blonde hair that fell across her face, that’s when I saw it. When my hand moved toward her, she flinched. Not physically, but I saw it in her eyes. Her eyes drew back and I realized she must have been a slave for most of her life, for one so young to act this way.

  “What is your name?” I asked, but before she could answer, there was a chorus of muffled snorts and laughter from the soldiers.

  I turned, glaring toward Darius, Telamon’s Lieutenant, for explanation.

  “Forgive the outburst, Lord Conqueror, but you may want to choose again.”

  “And, why is that?” I asked.

  “This one’s been used so much even the soldiers don’t want her.” He answered to more snickers from the men.

  I turned back to the young girl. “I asked you what your name was.”

  “Gabrielle, My Lord.” She answered and I new I was in trouble. Those eyes were drawing me in and that voice, it sounded as smooth as silk when she spoke. The odd thing is that she called me, My Lord, as if she belonged to me already. No one called me anything but Lord Conqueror.

  Then, tears began to fill her eyes, as the men could not stifle their laughter. She didn’t try to wipe them away or pull back from me and I felt the wetness splash onto my fingers.

  “Why do you cry girl? Is it because Darius here lies?” I prodded, wishing she would stop her tears. I didn’t understand why, but they made me feel uneasy.

  “No, My Lord.” she responded softly. “My tears are because the Lieutenant speaks the truth.” and suddenly the whole room went silent.

  I’m still not sure why, but I heard my own voice as if someone else were using it. “Atrius,” I called to my captain. “See that she is taken to my quarters, fed, bathed and dressed properly. I may have need of her services.”

  When I turned to leave the great hall I paused momentarily to see if any of the soldiers had enough nerve, or stupidity, to laugh now. No one did. They never do.

  * * *

  I was feeling my wine to be sure, but the satisfying fact was that most of the men who challenged me to the drinking contest passed out long ago. Content in the knowledge that I still had a bit of my youth left, I walked out of the banquet hall on the way to my room. I must have been listing to port slightly because Atrius was suddenly there and I had to rely on him to lead the way to my quarters or I could have been wandering the halls all night.

  “Will there be anything else this evening, Lord Conqueror?” he asked as I opened my door.

  “No, I’m done in for the night.” I called after him once he turned to go. “Atrius... um... thank you.”

  Atrius never spoke much. He bowed his head slightly and gave me a small grin. We were both warriors and he knew how hard I was trying to become a more gracious ruler, let alone a decent human being. He accepted my hesitant thanks with a civility that was unique for a soldier.

  I entered my room and nearly fell over the girl who sat, kneeling at the foot of my bed.

  “Who in Hades are you?” I shouted at her. She surprised me and I don’t like surprises.

  The small face instantly looked up in alarm and I barely recognized this beauty with her golden hair and freshly scrubbed face.

  “Oh.” I said, unable to think of anything else to say. I recognized the slave that I selected earlier, but just barely.

  She bowed her head again and seemed to be waiting for me to command her in some way. It’s been quite some time since I owned a body slave and I have grown rather unaccustomed to this behavior. She was breathtaking now that she was cleaned up and I noticed my personal maid dressed her in one of my older silk robes. It was rather large on the small frame and hung off one shoulder, exposing lovely pale skin. If she hadn’t planned that maneuver herself, she should have. It was as seductive as it could be.

  I admit I wasn’t very sober, but I crossed the room to get a glass of wine anyway. After I’d downed about half the glass I turned and the girl was in the same submissive posture, kneeling on the floor at the foot of my bed. I can only assume that’s what she’d been taught. Either that, or Sylla, my maid instructed her to do so.

  My libido went south on me in the last season or so, but as I stared at the small blonde, her hair falling forward from her bowed head, covering her face, I felt a warm need clench at my belly. I gulped down the rest of the wine to beat back the headache I could feel coming on. My neck was beginning to get stiff, and my back ached, a sure sign that I would have one Tartarus of a hangover in the morning.

  I walked to the bed and sank heavily onto the soft mattress. My fingers were having a hard time working the laces of my shirt and I finally gave up. What was this girl’s name?

  “What’s your name again?” I gave in and asked.

  “Gabrielle, My Lord.”

  “Gabrielle, I need you.” I responded and she stood in front of me and let her robe fall to the floor.

  All I could do was stare at the gorgeous body in front of me. For being a slave, she had few if any lash marks on her body. Usually there’s only one reason for keeping a slave in good condition like this and that is if they’re good at what they do. That thought made another white-hot bolt of warmth sear through my belly.

  “Put your robe back on, Gabrielle.” I said quickly, looking at my own boots.

  I had no idea why I was holding back from simply taking the girl, it’s what I usually did. If I saw something I wanted, I made it mine. Well, it’s what I used to do. I was trying not to terrorize young women so much anymore. It started to get empty somewhere along the way, having women in my bed that were there simply because I commanded it to be so. I felt something beyond physical lust for this small blonde, and that worried me, but I didn’t feel like facing that kind of a demon tonight.

  Gabrielle reached for her robe and I could see the confusion written across her features. I could also tell why the soldiers downstairs didn’t want her.

  Those kind of men wanted a woman to fight back a little, so even if it wasn’t true, they could think they were bad asses by taking women against their will, as if taking a defenseless woman that way made a man out of anyone. I looked down at the slave that knelt and bowed her head in front of me. Who rode all the fight out of you, little one? It prob
ably wasn’t one, but a hundred different masters. She existed in a slave’s world by cowering and apologizing, and begging forgiveness. She did as she was told, exactly when she was told, and she stayed alive for it. She was a young girl, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person, man, or woman, whose eyes displayed such absolute and utter defeat before. She didn’t even appear to know how to think for herself, and why bother. She must have spent most of her life being told what to do and when to do it. I’m sure she learned at a very young age that slaves who think don’t live long.

  “Forgive me, My Lord, I thought... I didn’t mean to presume that you wanted to be pleasured.” She apologized.

  “I don’t... I mean I do, look... just not tonight, okay?” I uncharacteristically stammered. I think I was a little disappointed that her body was covered again.

  “Help me undress, Gabrielle.” I commanded and immediately she set about the task.

  She removed my boots, not even caring that they were still covered in dried blood and mud from the battle.

  “You can wash your hands in the bowl over there, there’s water in the pitcher.” If I hadn’t of said anything, I’m sure she would have wiped her hands on herself before removing the rest of my garments.

  She untied the laces of my shirt and I pulled the top over my head. She looked up only once, as if seeking permission to continue, when she prepared to remove the breeches I wore under my trousers. It was the last item of clothing I had on and she paused. For some reason I wasn’t sure if I wanted her hands that close to my need and I removed the underwear myself.

  I rolled into the middle of the bed and lay on my stomach, my arms wrapping around the softness of a pillow. The sheets felt cool against my naturally heated skin and I breathed deeply at the smell of the fresh linen. The smell reminded me of a time very long ago, when I was a small child.