The guards got her out of the wagon without much assistance from her .. even though her arms and legs were stiff and sore, she knew that some measure of strength had returned to them, but she had no intention of letting her Roman guards know that. - Knowledge is power, and what they don't know helps me! - she told herself.

With the soldiers bracing her under the shoulders again, she had to grit her teeth against the lancing agony that shot through the joint as she was dragged towards a large tent. - Command tent, - she registered with a practised soldier's eye. She took the opportunity to glance around and, from what she saw, she became certain that Caesar marched with an entire Legion. - The VII, - she thought as she located and recognised the eagle and banners that proclaimed the unit's identity. - A crack, core of hardened veterans. -

She was guided through the canvass tent flap into the brightly lit accommodation belonging to Caesar. Her good eye was dazzled for a second as it adjusted from darkness to light, and she blinked several times to try and focus the images around her. The guards halted about five foot from a table laden with the remains of their commander's meal. Xena appeared to struggle to get her feet solidly under herself so that she could stand to face her enemy ... her legs appeared rubbery.

Caesar looked at her with a measuring glance, noting the slight tremor in her knees as her pride held her upright before him. That she refused to acknowledge his superiority, did not surprise him. That she would be forced to accept his mastery, was something he was determined to see.

At a slight nod from their commander, the two guards kicked their charge in the back of her unstable legs, forcing her to her knees before the man who claimed ownership of her. Unable to restrain herself, the Warrior Princess directed a look of bleak, cold, hatred at her enemy. A lesser man would have recoiled from the sheer intensity of that look, but Caesar returned it with a cool one of his own, that further fuelled the fires of her rage.

She, unconsciously, strained at the irons that held her wrists. Yet even though she had broken chains in the past when gripped by her dark emotions, her muscles weren't recovered enough to duplicate the feat.

Caesar continued to observe her with seeming placid superiority, "Don't bother, Xena," he told her conversationally, "Those chains were forged especially for you. Even with your full fitness you would find it impossible to break free of them. They're far thicker and stronger than usual. You see the stories about you have given me the information I need to contain you." He poured himself a goblet of wine and plucked a grape from a dish of fruit as he studied her.

Her face, he noted, was heavily bruised. Her right eye swollen shut, the left only able to partly open. The whole of her normally sleek body was mottled by dark purple, blue and black marks. Yet marred and chained as she was, she managed to maintain her air of majesty, as if she was in control of all around her.

He took a sip of the wine as he watched her. Saw the tightness around her mouth, the tension in her muscles. Stubborn, arrogant pride was written into her every look, her every movement. Breaking her to his will was going to be a long and arduous task, a test of patience, but worth the effort if it could be achieved. And there was the difficulty, - Can it be achieved? - he thought to himself.

His destiny was to become Master of the World. He had know this for many years, had even shared the vision of his destiny with the young, immature Xena, who had captured and ransomed him so many years ago now. He had shown his mastery then, by taking her, along with her crew of pirates, and having them all crucified. But she had survived, lived to mature and grow in her hatred of him, to become ... if not a threat, at least an irritant that he needed to exorcise. Besides, something within him demanded that he bend this woman to his will. Her strength mocked him, and he needed to dominate.

He placed the goblet back on the table before him and picked up a thin metal collar, inspecting the inscription he'd had written on it. It was a very expensive item. Forged from the metal extracted from a rock that had fallen from the heavens. It's twin was around her neck, and the pair were unique.

"Do you know what this is, Xena?" he asked her pleasantly, holding the collar up for her to see. His only reply was the icy stare, but that didn't worry him. He hadn't expected her to answer, "Of course you do," he supplied the answer for her, "It's a slave collar. A match for the one around you own, normally, quite lovely throat."

He locked his eyes on her. "These collars are unique. Made from a skyrock. That's enough to make them unique, you know, but these also have inscribed upon them, 'Property of Caesar'. That's you, by the way," he told her with a laugh, "and these collars are the only two in the world that bear such a legend. Add to that the fact that the metal from a skyrock is one of the most valuable commodities in the world, as well as being one that is invulnerable to the metals we normally use, you can see how much I truly value you."

He failed to provoke a response.

"Of course, I had the other one made for you irritating friend. Did I tell you that she'll be joining us in a few days?" he threw this piece of information into his monologue and noted the way her glare intensified and her muscles almost cracked in the desire to break the chains that held her. Yet still she refused to respond verbally to his taunting.

He smiled patiently. - Everything would come with patience. - he told himself. "Have you eaten this evening?" he asked, knowing she hadn't and gesturing to the scraps that remained from his own meal. It was a calculated insult, scraps to be offered to a dog. The insult continued his campaign to goad her into showing her strength.

He was now certain that she was better recovered than she was pretending to be. Her whole demeanor proclaimed it in a hundred, almost imperceptible, ways while she fought to keep that information hidden from him, "Why don't you ask me for some food, Xena?" He said sitting forward in his chair to look at her intently, "Why don't you ask me to let you friend go free?"

"I'll ask nothing of you," she ground out sullenly. "I'll give you nothing you want! And I don't believe you even know where Gabrielle is!"

He leaned back in his chair and smiled smugly, "You're wrong you know," he told her with confident certainty, "You're going to give me everything I ever dreamed of ... you and your little bard friend. She's on the way to Nemausus, by the way. The same as we are"

Xena stared back at him, trading glare for smile. Her rage had been banked to white hot and the molten fire that flowed through her veins cleared away all thought of physical pain. - He can't have Gabrielle. It's impossible. She is safe with the Amazons. And yet! ... - And yet, she knew that Caesar was not a man to make an idle boast.

Even as she struggled to control her fear and anger, her eye had been attracted by something small and metal on Caesar's table. She was aware of what Caesar was trying to do here. The sudden relaxation of the guard detail, shouted loud that he was fishing about her capabilities. Give her just enough room and she'd supply all the answers to the questions he needed to be solved. - Well, maybe I will! - her anger flared. - but not for the reasons he providing. -

She had no doubt that there were a good twenty soldiers within a call's distance, her acute hearing picked up the sounds that most people would miss. But, the thin, small piece of metal on the table called to her. Even though she risked more heavy handed treatment, she needed to make the most of opportunities as they presented themselves. She doubted she would be offered many such.

Beginning to feel that his goading was not going to get her to show her hidden strength, if indeed she had any and he was not just reading something into her that wasn't there, he suddenly grew wearied of the game. He looked at the guards and ordered, "Return her to her cage."

As the soldiers pulled their, previously helpless and pliant, captive to her feet, they suddenly found themselves trying to keep a hold on a force of nature. With double fisted swings, backed by the heavy metal of the shackles, she felled the two hapless guards with jaw cracking power.

With her ankles too constricted by the chains they bore to move her quickly, she executed a forward roll that took her to the table before Caesar. As she rose up from her tumble, she grasped its edge and heaved it at the man as he struggled to his feet, throwing him off balance as he grabbed for his sword and screamed, "Guards!"

She knew that she had bare moments before she would be overpowered. She had to make it look as if Caesar was the target of her efforts. She snagged the object that she'd been aiming for, and managed to force the small, sharp tool into the hem of her shift as she moved to confront her hated tormentor.

In the moment it had taken for her to secure and hide the object, Caesar had regained his balance and drawn his sword with an ease born of long practice. As she moved towards him, he was ready for her and levelled the blade to her throat just touching her skin. They stood, thus, in a frozen tableau as the tent suddenly filled with men. Strong arms grabbed her from behind, and pulled her roughly away from the Roman. She quirked her lips in a dark, chilling smile, letting him know that his control of her was illusory. She forced herself to relax as she was pushed back down to her knees. Not that she was in any real condition to resist. She had used her reserves to steal her prize, a fine metal toothpick that she would harbour against her next slim opportunity.

Caesar's face burned with fury. That he'd been right about her did nothing to soothe his nerves about her getting so close to him. He glared at the luckless, unconscious, legionaries who had been his 'bait' to test her, "Take those fools out and give them twenty five lashes each when they wake up. Maybe it will teach the rest of you to remember just how dangerous she is ... at all times!"

"Why blame your men?" she purred insolently at him, "We both know who's fault it was." She knew her barb had hit the mark. His plan had been transparent to her from the start, but even so she hadn't been able to resist the opening he had given her.

Caesar felt shaken by the sheer intensity of the woman. He had very little doubt that she would have done her very best to kill him if she'd been able, and be damned to the consequences. - It will be different, - he told himself, - when I have the bard in my hands to use against her. But for now, - "Yes we know whose fault it was," he snarled, "Yours!" He glared angrily at her, annoyed that she could so easily irritate him when he held all the trump cards, "It's time you started to learn the realities of your new position, Xena," he turned to Flaccus, "Give her twenty lashes here, now, before you put her back in the cage."

Two guards pulled her roughly back to her feet and hauled her over to the tent's thick central support post. Just above head height was a metal spike, used to hang a lantern from. The lantern was quickly removed and Xena's shackles hung over the spike in the lantern's place. Forced to stand on her toes, her shoulder, once again screaming protests at the abuses it was suffering, her ribs shooting exquisite torment through her frame, causing her to take short painful breaths, she could do nothing to resist the flogging that had been ordained for her.

The Centurion ripped open the back of her shift exposing more of the heavy discolourations that covered her body. Flaccus stepped back to give himself some room to swing the whip that had hung curled at his waist. No sign of emotion showed on the Centurion's face. He had warned the woman the price for transgressing the bounds. He would perform this task as he would any other ... with efficiency.

Xena closed her eyes and gripped the post as firmly as she was able. She heard the lash whistle through the air before it struck her exposed flesh, cutting deep, drawing blood. The shock was enough to drown the pain ... at first.

"One!" announced the Centurion as he drew back his arm for the second strike.

Clamping her jaws together as hard as she could, Xena tried to anticipate the descent of the whip, arching her back to ride the blow as far as possible, but the way she had been hauled up, gave her little chance of achieving her aim. The vicious leather bit again, causing her to jerk against her chains in reaction.

"Two!" came the count.

Breathing became added torture as her ribs made their condition felt. Sweat beaded her brow as she waited for the next blow to fall. She tracked the motion of the whip with her ears, hearing it fly back away from her body, then whistle forward again, with pitiless impartiality. It struck lower, across the small of her back, forcing her to draw breath sharply.

"Three!" she heard announced.

She leaned her forehead onto the pole, trying to gather her will to withstand the brutality of such punishment. As the lash slashed across her back from shoulder to hip, the slow heat of gradual pain began to increase as shocked flesh started to register the torment being inflicted upon it.

"Four!"

Blocking out the sound of everything around her, other than the whip's movement and the count of the blows, she moved her hands to take a firm hold on the chains above her and gripped them with white knuckled ferocity.

"Five!"

- God's! - her mind cried out as her back began to flame with burning fever as the lash bit deep once again.

"Six!"

She could feel the trickles of blood run down her back, as the wounds cut by the stinging leather increased in number. Sweat glistened from every pore of her body, mixing with the crimson flow drawn from her skin, further adding to her torment as the salty fluid fed into the cuts.

"Seven!"

Her jaw ached with the effort she used to keep from crying out. Her pride, her stubborn pride, was trying so hard to hide her agony from Him. She knew it was a vain effort, but she would withstand the suffering as long as she could.

"Eight!"

Another slashing diagonal cut roasted her tormented hide. She stifled a soft whimper before it could escape her. - Not even halfway through the ordeal! - she berated herself. - Some Warrior Princess! - she flogged herself with contempt at her perceived weakness and stiffened her resolve.

"Nine!"

- I've suffered worse. - she told herself. - The Gauntlet, the capture. I will survive this! - She shuddered as the heavy blows further damaged the cracks in her ribs, finally breaking them forcing her breathing to come in agonized short gasps.

"Ten!"

- I can endure whatever I have to. - she told herself, - But please let Gabrielle be safe! -

"Eleven"

- Does burning feel like this? - she asked herself, her mind wandering, as white hot needles of agony lanced through her lacerated back. - Did the people of Cirrah feel this pain? -

"Twelve!"

Her torment took her into the nightmare depths of the dark recesses of her soul, - So many deaths. So many pointless deaths. Is any punishment too great to bear for what I have done? -

"Thirteen"

A grudging groan battered past the shield of her clenched jaw. Torture of body and soul combined to break her iron resolve.

"Fourteen!"

"Ugghh!" grunted Xena, no longer able to contain the torment inflicted upon her.

"Fifteen!"

Molten lava dripped where her back had once been. The excruciating rawness drove all thought, all other feeling, from her sensibilities.

"Sixteen!"

Another, louder cry was drawn from the Warrior Princess as the whip continued it's scouring of her flesh. Gone were all vestiges of human thought, she was enveloped in pure animal pain that had need to cry it's anguish.

"Seventeen!"

Again the searing lash slashed deep into the mangled skin of her back. The torment, that, in the deepest recess of her mind, she believed could become no worse, intensified.

"Eighteen!"

Her whole body shuddered, jerking in her bonds like a broken puppet. The brutal abuse that it had suffered in less than two days should have been enough to kill any normal being. Yet she survived! She would endure! She no longer cared that she could not stop the cries of pain that her agony demanded she release.

"Nineteen!"

- I will get through this! - the thought bubbled to the surface of her screaming mind. - The screams that he has drawn from me will not break me. He will never break me, No one will control my will but me! -

"Twenty!"

As the final stroke was laid on, Xena sagged from her rigid brace. Her thoughts ran like scattered raindrops, as the searing fire that raged across her back refused to allow her to focus. Yet slowly, floating to the surface, came the determination that Caesar would not see her fall at his feet. As the guards released her from the post, she defied her legs to buckle. Using all of her stubborn strength of will, she stood before Caesar unbowed, unbroken.

She forced her breathing into a normal rhythm and, refusing to let her pain show in her voice, she told him with cold venom, "Reality is what you make of it Caesar. My reality will never be yours to control."

"Take her away," Caesar instructed coldly and watched, reluctantly impressed, as Xena shook off the hands that reached for her and exited the tent unaided, if unsteadily. A feat of superhuman strength of will that was not lost on the Roman. - Something has to be done to slow the speed of her recovery down, until she knows for certain I hold the bard. - he decided.

"Flaccus!" he snapped, making an instant decision, "She's to have only a cup of water morning and night until we reach Nemausus. Let's see if a little starvation will dampen her spirits, and keep her from regaining too much strength too quickly." He gave a bleak smile. "Oh, make sure that the Seventh's healer sees to her ribs .. I think several of them broke under your ministrations .. after all the trouble I've been to, I don't want to puncture something that will rob me of her. Other than that, her injuries can wait for Patroclese to attend them in Nemausus."