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Like a flare in her sternum, Xena was suddenly struck by how pretty Gabrielle looked in that moment, grinning and laughing with others her age by the bar. She loved the way the bard’s voice carried on the air across the crowded room, the way she could nearly trace the curve of her neck as she tossed her head. And Xena loved her hair too, blonde and windswept with a reddish tinge in the low light. Even from the far corner of a tavern in that nameless little town, the warrior found herself grinning back.
Things felt tenuous between them since the older woman began having visions of Gabrielle’s death. They still played games and told stories as they traveled, but the world around them felt darker, as if every step the bard took was bringing her closer to some inevitable danger. When she would slide closer to Xena on cold nights, the warrior would still turn and take her into her strong arms, pulling in towards her chest. But there was something simmering behind the older woman’s eyes. Deep sadness and worry showed even in the dark.
This night was different somehow. They had the chance to rest, stopping at an inn for a hot meal and a warm bed, a short gasp for breath between waves of harrowing escapes and world-ending events. Xena picked out a table for them off to the side, ordering cups of mulled wine and steaming bowls of a fragrant stew, some local specialty as the barmaid assured them.
“I like this place, don’t you?” Gabrielle mused, tilting her head as she looked at Xena across the table.
“Mhm,” Xena smiled softly and sipped from her cup.
The bard continued, “Right? There are artists and music. And that play in the street! It seems so safe…oh, and the trees here are just wonderful.” She looked wistful for a moment, “It’s the sort of place people dream of settling down in.”
“Settling down?”
“You know…like having a family and a house, maybe a little farm…”
Xena looked away, taking a deep draught of her wine. She hardly allowed the idea of settling down to even cross her mind, especially these days. That wasn’t the sort of ending warriors could really have, somehow escaping the cycle of violence and fear to live normal lives. Even now that she wasn’t a warlord, not fighting seemed unfathomable. Even Xena couldn’t name one hero who was happy.
Gabrielle changed the subject, giggling softly at a local’s odd hairstyle and shaking the older woman from her reverie. They fell back into normal conversation as the streets darkened outside. The inn around them though, only seemed to grow brighter, filling with golden torchlight and lively conversation. Soon, their bowls were empty and their spirits were higher. Xena found herself laughing at some story the bard was telling about Joxer, like really laughing, tears pricking her eyes as she struggled for breath.
On their fourth cup of wine, Gabrielle’s cheeks were pink and the warrior felt a warmth in her stomach. For the first time in months, she could look at her dearest friend and not go to that horrible place from her premonition. She no longer envisioned the girl’s thin wrists tied onto a cross, no longer heard the way her voice wavered as they proclaimed their love for one another with their final words. Instead, Xena was looking at her hair. It was the very same pixie cut that initially terrified her, irrevocable damage done to the platonic ideal of the innocent youthful Gabrielle that she had in her mind and further proof of her horrible vision coming to fruition. But now, with the warmth of their surroundings and the alcohol muddling her brain, she could only think about how cute it looked… how badly she wanted to cup the girl’s face in her hands and card her fingers through it.
Then, Gabrielle was gone, weaving through the crowd to get across the room to the bar. She’s getting something different to drink, Xena vaguely remembered being told, leaning back against the wall as she watched contentedly. Before long, the bard had attracted a small crowd of youths who were laughing and clapping with delight, no doubt enthralled by one of Gabrielle’s famous scroll stories. The cherry colored drink in her hand splashed a little onto her shirt as the blonde gestured theatrically. Xena let out a huff of amusement, affection blooming in her chest at how easily her companion was distracted and how she miraculously never failed to find enthusiastic audiences for her exaggerated tales.
The energy shifted slightly as a new figure joined the fray. He was tall and lean and nearly as blond as Gabrielle, carrying himself with confidence and an irritatingly handsome smirk that reminded Xena of Autolycus. He pushed through the small group and leaned on the bar, close to the warrior’s companion. As she spoke, he listened attentively, nodding and smiling and looking surprised when appropriate. Once, he even reached out to grasp the bard’s thigh as the group laughed uproariously at some punchline. As far as the warrior could tell, Gabrielle didn’t notice. If she did, she must not have minded it much as she continued talking without missing a beat, even shooting him one of those wide smiles that she typically only reserved for Xena.
The older woman felt a strange sinking feeling and a tightening in her throat. She wrenched her gaze away as she watched him press a small scrap of parchment into Gabrielle’s hand and wink. This was normal. This was healthy for the girl, right? Maybe if the young bard had stayed in Athens to study at the Academy, her life could have looked like this. Or, even better, if she had been allowed to never leave Potidaea in the first place. How foolish Xena had been to think that a partnership between herself and a person full of such lightness, such a capacity for goodness, could be anything but temporary. How selfish she was for even entertaining her own fantasies of their relationship turning into something more. Xena downed the bitter taste of her jealousy with the rest of the wine.
To the warrior’s surprise, as she finally lifted her gaze, Gabrielle was bounding back over towards the table. The blonde slid onto the bench next to her, gleefully throwing her arms around her neck as she nuzzled against the older woman.
“That guy’s this village’s greatest warrior, can you believe it?” She whispered while giggling softly, “And he liked my stories… he said they were funny.”
Xena didn’t reply, clenching her jaw as she could feel the bard’s breath on her neck.
“He even gave me his address,” she continued rambling, “Just if I needed any help or anything…and he said I was pretty.”
“You are pretty.”
At that, Xena’s companion looked positively delighted and giggled even more, impulsively pressing a soft kiss to the warrior’s cheek.
“You’re drunk,” Xena said stiffly, trying to ignore the rush of warmth to her face.
“Yeah..?” Gabrielle replied, raising her eyebrows as she looked up at her, “Well, you are too.”
Xena huffed and looked away. Maybe if she were cold, the bard would go back to the bar, back to the handsome young man that could give her a life the older woman never could. Maybe this village could save Gabrielle from the fate in Xena’s vision. Out of nowhere, the warrior’s thoughts were silenced as she felt arms around her shoulders and lips on her skin.
“Xena…” the girl practically cooed, pressing gentle kisses to the tendons of her neck, “Xena…he asked if I was with anyone…”
The older woman sat as still as a statue. Her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her hands. The trail left by Gabrielle’s lips blazed with searing heat. “What did you say?”
There was a long pause then, as the bustle and noise around them seemed to fade into a hum in Xena’s mind. Her pulse roared in her ears and her muscles were tense. “What did you say?” She repeated, trying to keep her voice even.
Then, before she could really think, the blonde’s hands were on her, turning the warrior’s face as she looked up into her eyes with a shy smile. “I said I was with you…my warrior princess…” Gabrielle nearly purred, brushing their noses together.
Xena would be embarrassed to admit that she gasped a little as their lips suddenly met. The bard was soft and sweet, still tasting like the fruity mead she’d had far too much of by that time. And she kissed like she was painting…slow, deliberate, and utterly debilitating. Gabrielle had a special way of drawing you in. Somehow, she made kissing feel both dizzyingly exhilarating and comforting and safe all at once. Xena couldn’t help but reciprocate, gently grasping her waist and licking into her mouth. Mine, her own voice echoed in her mind triumphantly. She could have sworn she heard and felt the blonde whimper into her mouth.
After a heady moment, the warrior finally regained her wits and inhaled sharply, gently pushing Gabrielle back. The girl’s hair was adorably mussed and her pink lips were parted. She chased after Xena a little as she pulled back, eyes opening slowly as she clearly didn’t want the moment to end. It was the same look the bard had given her the first time they kissed, when the warrior narrowly escaped death by possessing Autolycus’ body. Though Gabrielle was technically kissing the body of a man back then, she looked at the older woman with such vulnerability, such softness, somehow able to peer through the man’s eyes and find her friend’s spirit.
Xena’s mind surfaced again, finally registering the music and conversation of the tavern as it hummed in her ears. She could feel wandering eyes on them and hear amused whispers. Laughter rose from a nearby table, half-muffled by the clatter of flagons on wood and concealed behind cupped hands. The warrior sat straighter, her hand still resting on the blonde’s hip. What were they even doing? Ruining their friendship, drunk and in public no less. Likely squandering Gabrielle’s chance to lead a normal life, to finally be safe. But the bard didn’t seem to care. She just looked up at the older woman with the same sweetness in her eyes, the same slight furrow of her brow, as if she’d just discovered something sacred.
“You’re jealous,” the girl mused smugly, trying to lean in close again.
Xena blinked, “Jealous?”
“Mmhmm…of my admirer…” Gabrielle tried to stifle her giggles.
“...that’s ridiculous.”
As their eyes met, the bard tilted her head, her bottom lip pouting just a little. Her gaze settled on the warrior like a beam of the purest light—making Xena feel as though it didn’t really matter what she said, Gabrielle already knew. It was too late. The girl could tell she was jealous; she could feel how her kiss had affected the warrior. Her arms tightened around the older woman’s shoulders, gaze softening.
“I’m yours. You know that, right?” Gabrielle whispered suddenly, fingers tracing Xena’s jaw. The blonde’s cheeks were still flushed and her pupils were dilated. Her breath was still laced with the cloying scent of mead as she tried to ghost their lips together again. “Xena…please…” she murmured.
Perhaps, under other circumstances, the warrior princess could have resisted; if she were sober, if it were any other day, if that haircut wasn’t so damn cute. But in that moment, the inn around them felt like a dream, a humming half-light. It almost felt like the things they thought, the things they said to each other here, maybe wouldn’t matter outside. Maybe, for just an instant, Xena could let herself have what she always wanted. The hero was helpless. And they kissed as if Aphrodite herself were pushing them together.
Gabrielle’s lips returned to Xena’s with a fervor that surprised them both, pushing her back on the bench against the wall. This time, it was the bard who deepened the kiss, grazing her tongue insistently over the seam of the older woman’s lips and giggling breathlessly all the while. White-hot desire lanced through the warrior’s body, a deep hunger, a need to possess. Pressing her fingers into the supple skin of the girl’s waist felt familiar, like she was a warlord once again… taking… conquering. And the darker part of Xena, long since buried, relished every second.
But, despite everything, Gabrielle was not the picture of purity and innocence as the warrior had herself believing. After Dahak and Hope, the bard was forced to grow up, her girlhood torn from her like sinew. She’d killed and been a mother, even facing a brush with death herself. Gabrielle was a woman and she knew what she wanted, even now. Kissing Xena felt like taming a wild beast, like tempting fate. She knew that, at any moment, her companion’s heroic persona could shatter and she could sink her teeth into the blonde’s flesh, pushing her down on the table and taking her like one of her old slave girls, there in that tavern. The thought was devastatingly arousing.
In one fluid motion, the blonde pushed the older woman’s back flush with the wall and sank into her lap, legs bracketing her muscular thighs.
“Slow….slow down. I’m not going anywhere,” Xena murmured against her lips, trying to hold herself back as her hands began to push up the bard’s skirt.
Gabrielle whined, soft and keening, squirming in the warrior’s lap. “I-it’s hard to go slow…” she murmured. Her hands found Xena’s and eagerly pulled them higher, “You’re just…so…”
The girl’s voice trailed off as the older woman grasped her wrists and held them behind her back, essentially embracing her while leaving her nearly unable to move.
“I know it’s hard, baby,” The warrior crooned, her low voice and the pet name making the bard’s toes curl. Her lips brushed the blonde’s ear, “Putting my hands on your thighs like that will only make things harder…be good for me, okay?” Xena’s voice was unlike she’d ever heard it before, ravenous yet utterly devoted. It dripped over Gabrielle, the words worming their way into her alcohol-muddled mind. Every goal she ever had, anything she may have wanted in that moment was suddenly replaced by one need: be good for Xena.
The blonde pulled back, chest heaving as her eyes shone in the torchlight. “Okay,” she replied, voice a little breathy. She found herself just staring at the older woman for a moment. The spidery shadows of old scars traced their way around her shoulders and collarbones. Defined muscles shifted under her armored bodice. In that light, Xena nearly looked like she’d been rubbed in oil, glossy dark hair and skin shining. And her eyes were wide and full of pure adoration, looking at Gabrielle as though she were her most precious possession.
“There she is,” the warrior purred, tipping the girl’s head back just a touch, “There’s my good girl.”
Gabrielle moaned as the older woman kissed her neck. Xena nosed under her jaw, pressing her lips to her pulse point insistently and sucking the skin to her teeth. In that moment, the warrior was reduced to a singular impulse, a desperation for the person she knew in her heart to be her soulmate. The alcohol clouded her vision. She barely even noticed the reddish bruises that now bloomed in her wake or the way her bard trembled in her arms.
The blonde was nearly at her breaking point, her breath coming in quick shallow gasps. Somewhere in the haze, Gabrielle’s hands slipped to the nape of Xena’s neck, unsure whether she wanted to draw the older woman in closer or push her away. She wasn’t sure if she could handle more but she wanted it, desperately. Unable to help herself, she ground her hips against the warrior, silently praying that her companion had no idea how wet she was.
Xena growled, hands returning to the bard’s legs and easing them apart. Her fingers brushed higher, ghosting over the sensitive skin of the girl’s inner thighs. Suddenly, Gabrielle couldn’t take it anymore and wrenched herself back.
“Bed. Now.” she nearly hissed, pressing down firmly on the warrior’s chest. For a moment, Xena sat still before her eyes softened and she nodded.
“Bed.” the older woman agreed, gathering the bard up in her arms and wrapping her legs around her waist as she stood. She dropped a small bundle of denarii on their table—payment for the room, or perhaps penance, Gabrielle couldn't tell. Her arms twined instinctively around her companion’s neck, the warrior's body thrumming with restrained strength beneath her touch. As they began to ascend the weathered wooden staircase, the blonde’s arousal didn’t fade but she was suddenly filled with drowsiness, the deep sense of security she often felt in Xena’s arms. She couldn’t really help it, letting her head fall into the crook of the older woman’s neck as her mind dimly registered hoots and teasing cheers from the tavern patrons below. A gentle kiss to her forehead and Xena murmuring “Rest” in her smooth timbre were the last things Gabrielle remembered before falling asleep.