The Curse of Love

 

I look at her in the moonlight and feel fear. She has the remains of blood on her, the dried, harsh red, iron-tasting blood that mars her pale complexion. I have seen her bloodied before, too many times. This is different though. This time she killed not in self-defense but in vengeance and strategy. It happened only once before and I thought the last time would destroy her. It didn’t, obviously, somehow it made her stronger.

This is the kind of strength I can do without. It is something completely alien to me and I don’t like it, not one little bit. That’s not entirely true. I know that strength intimately, it is me, my place in the world. There is some jealously involved, I admit to myself. She should depend upon me; I should be protecting her from the hardness that now covers her. I remember the blood lust in her eyes, chasing the terrified soldier up the hill and into the trees.

But not for my angry shout to her, he would be dead now, a cold corpse in the shadow of trees.

She catches me looking at her and lifts a quizzical eyebrow. How she manages to look so completely soft and innocent with all that blood on her is a question I shall never answer. She smiles faintly, the firelight glinting off golden hair and emerald eyes, making them almost feral in the darkness. A shiver rips through me. Gods help me but I still want her, this stranger who has so completely destroyed my Gabrielle.

I look away from her, the returned Queen of the Amazons. The only one they have, now that Varia is disgraced and the others are dead. More jealousy. It is their fault Gabrielle has changed for good. I can see there is no turning back, knew it the instant she raised her sword to drive it into the back of that soldier scrambling to get away from her. My gaze roams the ragged circle of injured and bloodied Amazons, the women she chose over us. Hate wells within.

Another all too familiar emotion.

Have we come full circle then? Has she become that from which she saved me? Ares is laughing at us, I can feel it. She has sent him more worship in the last three days than I dare to even think about. He always wins in that twisted fashion of his. She is his successor now as surely as I ever was. Pain overrides the hate and hot tears slip my control.

I don’t care if she sees them, knowing that she will not ask their source. We haven’t really talked since the cannibals. I finally understood, in that horrible clarity that comes with near-death, what had been driving her so mercilessly; or at least a good part of it. It all came back to Hope. Her demon daughter. The first permanent damage to Gabrielle’s heart and soul from which I could not protect her, let alone mend.

It’s too crowded, this loose affiliation of women, too much for me to take. Another lie. It is Gabrielle whose presence I cannot take. Standing abruptly, I leave on the pretext of checking the perimeter. Her eyes follow me; I feel the heat on my back but ignore it, stumbling blindly into the surrounding forest.

There is an open clearing a long distance away where I chose to make my bed. Not literally, of course, I have left everything back at the campfire. Sitting on a large rock, I look up at the brilliant stars through tear-blurred vision. There is something perverse and wrong with this perfect night with its perfect night sky. It feels like sacrilege for me to sit here and cry but I can do nothing else.

The emptiness inside has begun to swallow me whole. I know I have to leave her but we are bound by so much that the chains might as well be forged by Hephestos himself. There is love somewhere in those chains, I know this agony would not be so complete if I did not still love her. Things would be so simple if I felt nothing for her.

"Xena." Her voice was soft, tender and coming from directly behind me.

Somehow, through the pain is pride. I taught her how to do that. How to sneak up on someone so silently that no one will hear even the whisper of grass. She moves around to stand before me, looking down with such compassion in her eyes. Her lie of compassion in which I so want to believe. Her hand cups my face and I have to close my eyes, block out the sight of my torment. Of my tormentor.

"I’m sorry," she whispers.

She is always sorry once the deed is done. That is why I stay. Through the slim hope that I can prevent her from becoming what I was. We do balance each other still, in a strange sort of way, far beyond that of lovers. I have become her mentor, she looks to me for how much is enough, how much is too much. She has become my path. No longer to redemption, but to love and peace of all things.

Perhaps I have already begun the path foreseen when I am the woman revered as the Mother of Peace. What a strange thought. The words slip out as heavy as the tears. "I know."

She moves closer, standing between my legs and wrapping her arms around my shoulder, pressing my face to her abdomen. My mouth opens against her to nibble over her skin. I cannot help my response to her as my arms go about her waist. I do love her, am still in love with her, may Aphrodite be cursed forever.

"I’m sorry," she repeats, sobs beginning to shake her slight frame. She slides down, collapsing in a heap before me, crying into me while I hold her as tight as I can. I know what happens now. All the recrimination and blame and disgust and revulsion shoved into that dark place within, comes pouring out of her.

It’s the curse of love. Her love for the Amazons, my love for her. Her love for peace warring with the instinct to defend with vengeance. Their love for her dedication and selflessness. The emptiness grows in me as our tears mingle and it seems as though they are the only things we share any more.

When silence returns to the forest I pull her up onto my lap, holding her as I would a child. She still fits perfectly like that, legs over mine and her head tucked just under my chin. "I am alone, Gabrielle." This shocks her, I feel her stiffening in my arms but I cover her mouth with my hand. "Let me talk."

At her nod, I withdraw my hand and wonder where to begin. Wonder if I can begin. Yet I know we must talk if we are ever to bridge the silence and hate and jealousy. For I have felt the same emotions coming from her. I know she resents my refusal to become an Amazon though she hasn’t mentioned it since the second time she asked me to join. It infuriates her that I will not bow to something so important to her.

I also know that she hates the way I have placed Eve over her, though it is unintentional and something every mother will do for her daughter. She is jealous of Eve even as she loves her because Eve is part of me. Jealous that Eve is succeeding where Gabrielle failed: to follow the path of Peace.

"The Amazons need you just as you need them," I begin at last. "That is right and I honor your bond with them. I will remain by your side until I die, Gabrielle. If that is in battle under your command…for them, then so be it. I am sorry too, Gabrielle. Sorry that I can’t be what you want. Sorry that I have let you down so many times and continue to let you down. No, let me finish. I love you, Gabrielle. You are my life, my heart and soul. But I’m lonely. Do you know how long it’s been since you talked to me? Since you even picked up a quill to think your own thoughts?

"I miss you so much, Gabrielle. I miss how you used to laugh, used to smile at the most inconsequential things. I think your smile is one of the biggest reasons I fell in love with you. We have been through so much together, maybe too much. I miss your heart, Gabrielle, because it’s become hard and hidden from me. From me, Gabrielle, of all people.

"I’ve lost my best friend and desperately want her back. I need her so badly that it hurts to breathe. Please, Gabrielle…" Only I don’t know what I’m asking from her. Just that the pain inside is too intense and unmanageable, especially with her in my arms.

She is silent then for an eternally long moment, head resting on my shoulder, her fingers playing lightly with my brass chest armor. "It started when you first refused to join the Amazons. I felt as though you were rejecting me, rejecting what I held dear. I didn’t think much of it at first, tried to tell myself that you were just being yourself. That you had trouble not being in charge, with me being in charge over you, which I would if you joined. But that led me to thinking that you didn’t believe me capable enough to be in charge."

The sun is coming up now and still Gabrielle is talking. Her voice is hoarse though she has talked so softly at times that I had to strain to hear her. There was nothing of the bard in her recitation, it had been no performance with no gestures or dramatic expression. At some point we had moved because my legs had fallen asleep. Now we lay on the ground, flush together, side by side joined only by our hands, her voice and the tenuous return of our friendship.

She was baring her soul to me, as I was doing for her, succumbing to the curse of love.