The Petal of the Rose

  THE CONQUEROR SERIES

  TALE TWO

  THE PETAL OF THE ROSE

  BY LJ MAAS

  Ebook by

  PDAFiction.com

  DISCLAIMER: Xena, Gabrielle, 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 is intended in the writing of this fiction. All other characters that appear are copyright LJ Maas. 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; rather it explores the alternate, loving relationship that exists between Xena the Conqueror & her onetime slave, 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 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 love, 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." J

  I only know how others feel about my stories from feedback. Let me know what you think. I'm at:

  Devlin@xenafan.com

  THE PETAL OF THE ROSE

  PROLOGUE

  SHE STOPS MY wandering hands, feigns jumping up from my lap, then halfheartedly slaps my hands away, telling me I promised to write this evening. With an exasperated sigh, I give up trying to bed her. I was hoping she had forgotten the promise I made only last night.

  It is the eve before my wedding. Gods above, I have existed in this mortal realm for forty-five summers and am to be married for the first time in my life, tomorrow at sunset. Talk about a spinster! I have promised her that I will accept the tradition surrounding a royal marriage, meaning that we will spend tonight apart and will not see one another until the ceremony in the Great Hall tomorrow evening. Given the fact that my more carnal nature makes an appearance whenever she is near, I couldn't help but make an attempt at seducing her when she kissed me goodnight.

  Alas, my future Queen is a strong woman with an equally strong will. Frankly, she makes my stubborn, pigheaded nature look tame in comparison. It's just that my lovely lady is more subtle about it. And so I sit here, quill in hand, to continue on with the promise I gave her several moons back, that I would reveal something of myself for posterity.

  I admit, I thought the idea rather inane at first. I am neither bard nor poet. I am far from a masterful historian, having a tendency to remember things in a rather biased manner, mostly how they revolved around me. I do love to read, preferring histories and war stratagems to the flowery writings of Pindar and Ibycus. Philosophers are my favorite. Socrates and Pythagoras could entertain me for days, but it was Plato's Dialogues, which captured my mind. His knowledge of reality fascinated me. Perhaps that is why I spared his life.

  Ironic, how things that happened when I was quite young, appear fresh in my mind so many years later. It was right after I conquered Athens, destroying a majority of the city, mostly because of what Pericles did to my homelands during the Peloponnesian War. I was so foolish in those days, killing to make a point that might have impressed just as strongly without the bloodshed.

  Critias and Charmides were the only two I was after that day. They were extremists who I couldn't afford to let live after I took Athens. It was unfortunate that Socrates was so closely involved with them. I had to execute all three. I remember when they brought Plato, Socrates disciple, before me. I was rather impressed with the young man, and believe me, you had to be quite extraordinary to do that in those days. He was from a good family, even served in the Cavalry for his military service. I found his views on life in general to be refreshing and inventive. Perhaps it was the mere fact that he shared his bed with men and not women that caused us to get along so well. There was no sexual tension between the two of us and I think that, and the man's uncommonly quick wit, were what saved his neck that day. He started an academy after Athens was rebuilt. I have often received invitations to visit him, but I have never gone. It hurts too much to go back to that place where I destroyed so much. Perhaps she would wish to go. Gods, I know she would be in Elysium to enter that academy and speak with one of the greatest philosophers Greece has ever known. I'll keep that in mind, since there are so many places I wish to show her.

  Well, I've let my memories of the past carry me away, but that is what she had in mind when she thrust the quill in my hand for very first time. I sit here and smile when I think of the engaging way she had of coercing me into doing something I would have done for her anyway.

  "Xena?"

  "Mmm?"

  "Xena?" Gabrielle's voice came at me louder this time.

  I knew she was waiting for me to raise my eyes from the scroll I was reading. She detested talking to the top of my head, bent over a scroll as I was during our morning meal. Usually this time of the day I gave to my Consort, but I had a full day of hearings to preside over and I was trying to stay caught up.

  "I can read and listen at the same time, little one," I responded, finally lifting my face to gaze into the intelligent green eyes across from me.

  "I know," she smiled, "but I like looking into your beautiful face."

  I feel the beginnings of a blush creeping up my neck and offer her a crooked smile in return. Her forward comment flusters me. She knows what it does to me when she says things like that. Of course, I think that's why she says them half the time. I set my scrolls aside and take her hand in mine from across the table.

  "All right, my love, now that you have my beautiful attention, what may I do for you?"

  "When you say it like that I think you might do anything for me," she replied coyly. I didn't yet realize the danger I was in.

  "I would," I answered without hesitation.

  "I'd like for you to write down your thoughts, a sort of a history of your life," she said softly in halting tones.

  "No," I still smiled.

  "But you just said--"

  "I lied, pick something else. Some new gowns..."

  "Xena..."

  "Some new scrolls, perhaps a case to carry them in..."

  "Xena..." she said softer, in more of a whispering tone.

  "Maybe a horse of your very own... you wanted to learn to ride..." I trailed off, looking into eyes that appeared as if they might cry at any moment. Gods, she's good!

  She sat there, her delicate hand within my own, a small, childlike expression on her face. She didn't have to say another word, we both knew who was going to win this argument.

  "Oh, okay," I relented.

  So, as a fearsome battle, it was slightly on the tame side, but it is an example of what I see for my future as a married woman. She has the ability to cause me to feel so much, a sensation that
is new for me. Whether in our bed or a seated beside me at a formal dinner, she instills feelings of love and desire, family and home. I find that I had been looking for her all my life and never even knew it, and now that I have her beside me, I won't ever take a chance on losing her.

  I have said it before, but the words were never truer than at this moment. The story of the Conqueror does not begin until she steps into the tale. For the tale of the Conqueror cannot accurately be told without the telling of Gabrielle.

  CHAPTER 1

  "WHERE I LEFT OFF, LET ME AGAIN BEGIN"

  "XENA... ARE YOU all right, love?"

  Gabrielle found me in the outer room, peering out the window, down into the garden.

  "Yes, love," I answered distractedly.

  She slipped her arm around my waist and I realized my head was elsewhere. "I'm sorry, my brain is fixed on something else this morning."

  "I can see that by the frown," Gabrielle answered, reaching up on her toes to place a kiss on my cheek.

  I admit, that did make me feel better and my smile told her so.

  "Why are you frowning and why so early?"

  "It has nothing to do with us, my love." I kissed her forehead and pulled her against me tighter. "We have a visitor." I pulled back the tapestry to reveal a young man pacing in the garden below.

  He walked back and forth, sat on a bench for a few heartbeats, and then bounced up again as if by simply sitting still he could not possibly contain so much energy. He was tall, with a slim waist, and broad shoulders. His long dark hair fell down into his eyes and when he tossed his head back, he revealed sparkling blue eyes. Most would guess him to be nineteen or twenty, but I knew that he was twenty-three summers; in fact, I remembered the day he was born with startling clarity.

  Gabrielle looked at the man, then back at me, and I knew she was wondering.

  "Xena... do you know that young man?" she finally asked.

  I smiled down at her, letting the tapestry fall to cover the window once again.

  "Yes," I answered. "He's my son."

  "I wondered as much," she replied. "The resemblance is amazing."

  I had to continue smiling; nothing ever appeared to affect my lover. I should be smiling simply because this is very nearly the first time that I've thought of Gabrielle as my lover, my future Queen, as opposed to referring to her as my slave. Even in my thoughts, she was always a slave, but no longer.

  I felt her hand on my forearm, rousing me from my introspection.

  "Xena, I wasn't aware that you had a son."

  "That was the plan," I answered cryptically. I turned away from the window and back to Gabrielle. "I'm sorry, love, I don't mean to hide this from you, but I'm rather taken back at this turn of events myself. I never expected for him to show up on my doorstep."

  "I know, you'll tell me when you're ready," Gabrielle responded patiently.

  I smiled and brought her hand to my lips, kissing her upturned palm. "I'm going to go down and meet with him. Why don't you dress and come down when you're ready? I promise, later when we're alone, I'll explain everything to you."

  Gabrielle nodded and I moved toward the door. Turning to face her once again, I left her with one last thought, thinking at the time that it was rather unfair of me.

  "Gabrielle, one more thing. Solan doesn't know he's my son and I am honor bound to keep it that way." I turned and walked through the doorway before Gabrielle's confused expression forced me to stay and explain.

  * * *

  The rose garden seemed a much too cheery place to meet with someone, even when that someone was my only child. I had no earthly idea why Solan would appear unannounced. Was it personal or perhaps an official request from Kaleipus? Centaurs! Men are men; no matter how many legs they have, showing up unexpectedly. I hadn't been to the Centaur Nation in nearly fifteen summers. Oh, I'd been in the area on one campaign or another, but there was one thing that always held me back from visiting... I was afraid.

  The spring that Solan turned eight, a messenger arrived in Corinth, bearing a letter from Kaleipus. He spoke of many things, but first and foremost, he told me of my son. Up to that point, I was determined to act as if I never had a child. Some days it worked, others it didn't. The days turned into seasons and since conquering the Known World consumed most of my time, pushing it from my mind became considerably easier. Kaleipus explained in that letter that it was time for the two of us to give up our feud. At that time, I had the power I desired and had given up looking for stones and icons that witches and sorceresses promised would bring me the world. By then, I was well on my way to possessing it.

  Still, the things Kaleipus said brought me up short. Even though I was the Lord Conqueror, the centaur once promised that should I ever attempt to come for Solan, the entire Centaur Nation would rise up against me. Now, Kaleipus was telling me it might be good for me to get to know the boy. I never had a thought to try taking my son, not because I feared a good battle, but because I knew the truth. Solan would never grow up into a fine and honorable young man raised as my son. If I could protect him from my enemies, and he lived long enough, he would grow to be me. I wouldn't pronounce that sentence on my most hated enemy, let alone my own son.

  Therefore, I returned Kaleipus's letter, acknowledging his generosity, but declining the offer. We exchanged many letters that season until I finally relented, agreeing to a trip to their Village near the border of the Amazon Territory, another of my least favorite places. I consented only to the trip and, I admit, my own curiosity as to what Solan was like. I believe Kaleipus was willing at that time to tell Solan the truth, although it pained him. He had raised the boy as his own son, and even though he tried to conceal it, I could see the anguish in his face. I gained a newfound respect for the centaur that day.

  If I had let myself that day, I would have taken Solan in my arms and never let go, but the time for that had already passed. He was intelligent, good looking and athletic, all the things I was at his age. In addition, he was just as angry as I. He lived with a perpetual chip on his soldier, just as I had. He had been told all his life that Borias, his father, was a friend and a hero to the centaurs. The whispers he came to know, as he grew older, informed him that the Conqueror had killed his parents. In truth, I did. I killed Borias that night as surely as if I had beaten him and plunged the blade into his back myself. I put to death Solan's mother on the night I handed my baby over to Kaleipus, to raise as his own. Needless to say, any affection that might have existed between the boy and me during that meeting was entirely one sided.

  I at least saw him, and from that point on, I sent monies and gifts to Kaleipus for the boy. I should have just moved on and forgotten the child I bore, yet gave up claim to, but something inside me wouldn't allow me. Solan became our common ground. The creature I considered an enemy, soon became an ally, if not actually a friend. Kaleipus and I spoke often throughout the seasons, but I never returned to the Centaur Village, nor ever saw Solan again. He grew up, and while still holding some enmity towards me for the rumors he had been told, Kaleipus explained that he finally convinced the young man that I was a friend to his parents, not the monster imagined.

  The sound of one of my palace guards clearing his throat broke me free from my musings of the past. Seated on the comfortable chair that served as my throne, I deliberately refused to rise as the guard led Solan into the Great Hall. Since I didn't know the nature of his visit, I elected to receive him as the Conqueror, not as his father's friend.

  "Lord Conqueror," Solan bowed awkwardly.

  I acknowledged him with a nod of my head, noting the stiffness of his posture. My observant nature led me to learn so much more about my enemy than they knew of me. I enjoyed watching people and at an early age, I realized it was almost uncanny, the way I could predict a man's future actions by watching him so intently in the present. What I discovered when I watched Solan was that he wasn't a man who bowed often, nor liked doing it. I watched the way he held himself in my presence, his sta
nce, his eyes, what he did with his hands. All the gestures and subtle movements told me what kind of a man my son had grown to be, all without him yet uttering a word. It was unfortunate that I was usually right because it appeared that the boy had become an arrogant little prig.

  "My name is So--"

  "I know who you are," I interrupted. "Now tell me something I don't know."

  I decided to play the game, realizing with more glee than was probably necessary that I had the opportunity to take this young pup down a peg. He handed me a scroll, sealed with the familiar ring of cedar bark that Kaleipus always used.

  "I come as an emissary of the Centaur Nation," he said, offering the parchment in his outstretched hand.

  Ahh, the psychology of power, I grinned from ear to ear inside my own mind. It had been far too long since I'd had anyone to enjoy a good bit of one-upsmanship with in this palace. I don't count Gabrielle; she does it to me on too much of a regular basis. I think I was actually becoming excited at the prospect.

  Solan held out the parchment, just far enough away where I would have to either rise or at least lean out of my seat to grab for it. I did neither, sitting there with my elbows on the arm of the chair, my hands coming together until just the fingertips touched. I arched one single eyebrow at the young man and the fixed smile on his face slipped a tad. He moved quickly to close the distance between us, seeing to it that the scroll was placed directly within my hands. I suspect he didn't expect to be caught in his little sport, and so blanched slightly at the thought that I knew his game and what he was up to. Hades! How could I not know what he was up to... the boy was I at his age!

  I ignored him as I tore open the seal, reading the letter from Kaleipus. I admired the way he stood there, waiting rather patiently. He had more diplomacy than I had, but when I was twenty-three, the world was a different place.