Her heart pounding in near-panic, the Bard of Poteidaia blinked her eyes in the dim light of the dying fire, trying hard to remember what had awakened her so suddenly from her normally deep sleep. She hadn't been up before the sun since . . . well, ever, . . . and certainly had never beaten Hercules out of an early morning. So she lay still for a moment, listening to the sounds of the cave to see if she could detect anything out of the ordinary that might have awakened her.

Next to her on his own pallet, Joxer was sleeping soundly, as was Hercules on the other side of the fire circle. The only noises emitting from the man, the demigod, and the goddess were the rhythmic repetitions of their deep nocturnal breathing, with a touch of slight snoring from the wannabe warrior. Nothing else appeared to be out of order, and unable to detect anything else out of the ordinary, Gabrielle closed her eyes again in hopes of returning to sleep before anyone else woke up.

But, it was not to be.

No sooner had she closed her eyes and begun to drift off again, she heard a low, aching moan from the back of the cave, and she immediately bolted upright. Instinctively, she knew the unhappy sound was coming from Sorrow, and without a moment's hesitation, she flew to Sorrow's aide.

"Sorrow?" Gabrielle whispered urgently. "Are you okay?"

The Goddess of Lamentation did not answer because she was still asleep, but she did mutter, "Strife, . . . you're dead . . ."

Hearing the name of the late god, who was so unceremoniously murdered by Callisto years ago, Gabrielle immediately reached out and shook her gently, urging, "Sorrow, wake up - you're having a nightmare!"

Again the goddess did not awaken, but her face twisted into a mask of unexpected pain and misery as she moaned, "Tell him to go away . . ."

Gabrielle was beyond worried now, and she was even more bewildered as to why the goddess would not awaken. Becoming scared, she began to shake Sorrow a bit more urgently, begging, "Sorrow, you've got to wake up!"

But the goddess only gasped unhappily in return, and Gabrielle quickly realized that she needed the help of someone more experienced in this arena. Rushing to kneel at Hercules' side, she barely touched his arm and he was awake.

"What is it, Gabrielle?" he asked in immediate response to the bard's worried expression.

"It's Sorrow - she's having a bad dream and I can't wake her up! She sounds like she's dreaming about Strife!"

"Strife!?" the demigod jumped up immediately and rushed to the stone table where the goddess slept. He frowned in deep concern as he gently slapped at her face and still received no response.

Gabrielle whispered anxiously, "Is Morpheus holding her prisoner?"

Hercules shook his head unhappily, for he doubted that his cousin, the God of Dreams, would take another god hostage in such a manner - a human, perhaps, but not another god who might turn around and exact vengeance on him.

However, he knew a god who would.

"We've got to wake her up - Ares is trying to find her through her dreams!"

"What!?" cried the bard in a strained whisper.

"Remember your tale of when Xena went into the Dreamscape to find you when you were to be sacrificed to Morpheus?"

Gabrielle nodded, turning slightly pale at the almost-forgotten memory.

"Ares is in Sorrow's Dreamscape now, probably trying to get her to reveal where she is. Gods can't just find other gods whenever they like, as they can with humans, so Ares found the easiest path to finding her - by invading her dreams!"

Upon hearing that, Gabrielle took hold of Sorrow's pearlescent hand and began slapping it urgently while Hercules continued to slap at her face, urging her to awaken. But no matter how much they tried, the Daughter of the Fates could not be roused from a dream that seemed to worsen as the moments went by.

In her Dreamscape, Sorrow had been sitting in the Hall of Fates relating to her mother and aunts the tale of her escape from the Halls of War when the late Strife appeared out of nowhere, still pale as Charon himself and still clad in his suit of torn black leather held together with metal clasps. His hair stood straight out in great shocks of black, and he looked positively maniacal. Nothing new there.

"Good evening, Ladies!" he proclaimed in a shrill voice as he bowed in mock civility. "What brings you all here tonight?"

The four goddesses looked to each other in confusion at the odd, yet deliberate, question, but Strife didn't wait for them to answer.

"And, YOWZA! How the heck have you been, Cousin Sorrow?"

The Goddess of Lamentation hesitated to answer at first, for she was unsure whether he was merely a part of her dream or an actual ghost from the past come to haunt her. She finally decided to accept his presence as being merely part of a particularly strange dream, and answered, "Um, fine."

"You look more than fine to me, Sorrow baby!" Strife's eyebrows waggled lasciviously. "In fact, you're positively glowing! Who's the lucky god that knocked you up? I wanna congratulate that lucky Son-of-a-Bacchae!"

Sorrow frowned as she contemplated her answer to this question. Having never trusted her cousin when he was alive, Sorrow was unsure whether she could trust him as a character in her own dreams, and ultimately, she felt she had obvious reason to distrust his presence no matter the case. So she answered evasively, "Haven't you heard? There are no lucky gods! Not anymore."

"Tell me about it!" Strife returned without blinking once. "I mean, hey! My luck sure ran out, didn't it? And believe you me, dying is a real bitch-kitty, Sorrow - I truly don't recommend it!" He then added with an increasingly shrill voice, "However, you didn't answer my question - Who's the daddy? Come on Sorrow! Who's the daddy!?"

Sorrow glanced over to where her immediate family had been working and saw that they had already returned to their tasks, seemingly oblivious to what was transpiring in her dream. Indeed, she wasn't even sure if they were truly her mother and aunts, or just mere recreations courtesy of Morpheus and her own subconscious mind. Strife was obviously the latter, so she proceeded to mislead him, as she would have done in real life.

"It's hard to say - I mean, this is but a dream."

Strife grinned cryptically, "Ah yes, but dreams are the gateway to the truth, Sorrow Baby! And frankly, our cousin Morph isn't this creative. I mean, look at you! You've got a bun in the oven, and I just gotta know who the baker is!"

"Why do you care?" Sorrow questioned, a furrow of worry plowing across her forehead. "I mean . . . Strife, you're dead!"

"And it's a real bitch-kitty, just like I said!" he replied in increasing irritation. "Tell me, Sorrow, who's the father of your baby!?"

Sorrow's eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion. Her psychotic cousin Strife had never cared enough to stop by the Hall of Fates for a visit unless he was on a mission, and his commissioner had always been the very god from whom she was once again hiding. She might allow that Strife's presence was but a product of her own subconscious fears, but something instinctual told her not to trust this apparition at all costs, and so she answered, "Well, it's hard to say - you know how promiscuous we gods can be. It could be the progeny of any number of gods or humans!"

Strife's pale countenance seemed to darken with every word she spoke, and he glowered back, "Sure it doesn't belong to Ares?"

"Did he send you to find out?" she countered angrily, wishing she knew how to make him go away. Strife had always made her twice as nervous as Discord, because at least with Discord, reason was halfway present. With Strife, nothing was for certain, and somehow she always lost her sense for deception in his presence. But not this time!

Strife grinned, "Just me being curious, Cuz! Remember, I'm dead - I can hardly work for 'Unc' without having a body to do it with, can I? And believe me, would I love to have a body to do it with!"

Sorrow grimaced in disgust as he waggled his eyebrows again at her luridly. In that respect, Strife had not changed a bit. The more revolting the situation, the more likely he was bound to be involved in it, and so she decided to address this particular situation with no more leading of her dead cousin. It was time to point out the truth to him.

"Strife, listen; it's lovely of you to come all the way from . . . wherever you came from . . . to participate in this dream, but I think you need to go tell your 'Unc' that my baby is not his, and he'll find me when Tartarus freezes over!"

The look that washed over Strife's face was indescribable. His normally goofy countenance seemed to metamorphose into a twisted mask of anger and frustration, and then his eyes began to glow red. If she hadn't had an idea who Strife really was, it might have frightened her, but Sorrow was able to maintain her composure and she stayed stoically defiant before him.

"Are you insane!?" Strife shrieked in his preternaturally high voice. "He's the God of War!"

"And I am the Goddess of Lamentation," Sorrow countered with a voice seething with anger and defiance. "I have as much purpose in this universe as he does, and perhaps even more so because of him!" Her sleeping mind quickly conjured a fighting staff that resembled the one now in Iolaus' possession, and she began to twirl it menacingly before herself as she threatened, "You know, Strife, Morpheus once told me that in the dreams of other gods, invading gods don't have all the powers they normally possess - only those that the dreamer allows them to have, and well, I just don't seem to remember you having all that many powers!"

In response to her veiled threat, Strife's twisted mask of anger began to relax into a grimace of surprise, and the glow slowly faded from his eyes, only to be replaced with a truly bizarre look of minor fear.

Sorrow began spinning the staff faster and faster, walking toward him menacingly, "It's hard to fight when you don't have any powers, don't you think?"

Her threatening stance, coupled with the skill behind the twirling staff, seemed to dishearten Strife, and he stepped backward as he giggled nervously, holding up his hands in defense, "H-hey, Sorrow Baby, chill! Don't get all defensive!"

"What should I be then, Strife? Offensive? I think you've just about cornered the market on that!" she quipped sharply, her voice strained with her anger.

Sorrow had planned then to strike him in the knee, but a sudden wave of unexpected pain suddenly came crashing over her, starting in her lower back and womb and spreading over her entire body in the most excruciating sensation she had ever experienced in her life. She almost dropped the staff as she collapsed to her knees, instinctively clutching her belly as she emitted the most pitiful wail that ever echoed through the Halls of Olympus.

"What's happening!? Are you okay?" asked the concerned voice of Ares, and Sorrow looked up to see that the God of War had indeed replaced the minor God of Strife, and seeing it was Ares, she cringed at his touch.

"Go away, Ares," she gasped. "It's none of your concern!"

"Now is not the time for foolishness, Sorrow," he said with great urgency as he knelt down before her, his face and eyes a genuine reflection of his very real concern for her. "What's happening to you?"

"Nothing that nature won't cure," she spat contemptuously, feeling the wave of pain already starting to pass away. "It seems that I am destined to learn the joys and sorrows of human childbirth!"

Ares' eyes darkened even more as he glowered, "Human childbirth? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm giving birth to a human child, Ares," she panted in relief as her body finally ceased cramping. "Do I have to spell it out any more plainly than that?"

"Maybe you should," he rumbled, feeling himself descending into the first stages of a tantrum. "Explain it to me."

"I'm not carrying your baby, Ares," she reported without an ounce of sympathy. "It's not yours!"

"But - "

"Ares, don't you think I'd be having the perfect, painless birth all goddesses experience if I were pregnant with your child?"

"Then - "

"Iolaus beat you to it," she put it bluntly. "We consummated our love in my father's temple, and now I am having his baby."

"You're lying . . ," Ares accused in a voice so strained, it almost sounded calm.

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you? But I have no need to lie," Sorrow proclaimed proudly. "I knew when it first started that my child wasn't yours! You see, goddesses don't get morning sickness, Ares, and they don't have labor pains!"

Ares tried hard to hold onto his temper, but her tone of voice antagonized the war god so much that he seized her by the arms and pulled her roughly to him, growling, "Psychosomatic illness is nothing new to you, my dear - you've taken on so many of humanity's vilest ailments that you've begun to mimic them all! You're deluded!"

Sorrow's heart was racing in her throat, but she managed to reply in a low, very controlled voice, "No, Ares, it is you who are deluded."

Ares searched her eyes, seeing nothing but defiance in the oceanic orbs, and a strange sense of calmness came over him.

"Nevertheless," he said, "regardless of who your baby belongs to, there is the matter of who you belong to. As far as I'm concerned, you are my wife, and we consummated that union many, many times!"

"That wasn't consummation," Sorrow hissed at him in disgust, "it was rape! You tricked me, and that is a crime - "

"Actually," he interrupted smugly, "I think the real crime here lies in the fact that you couldn't tell the difference between me and your...little...friend."

Sorrow glared at him hatefully, casting a quick glance to the spot where her mother had been just moments before, but the three Fates had somehow disappeared from her Dreamscape. She was left alone with Ares, and when she looked back to him in panic, she found the room around them had suddenly been transformed into the cell in which he had once held her, and they were now kneeling on the bed.

"Auggh!" Sorrow cried in torment when she realized where she was, but he would not release his hold on her. "Let me go, Ares!"

"Come now, Sorrow," he said luridly, pulling her to him against her will. "I'm sure you've heard how pleasurable lovemaking can be for a pregnant woman. Are you sure you don't want me to help you relive our 'honeymoon'? Remember - this is a dream - it won't really be happening!"

"No! Not for me it won't be!" she struggled to wrench herself free of him. She couldn't stand the leer of his gaze as it traveled down the length of her exaggerated body, taking in her tightly rounded belly and full breasts with an undeniable lust, and it reflected in the sudden life that sprang into his leather-encased loins.

"Come on, Sorrow!" he wheedled unmercifully. "Remember those nights when we made love over and over? Just think how much better it will be for you knowing that it's me this time, and that you'll be tasting forbidden fruit!"

Sorrow's face contorted in disgust as she shuddered involuntarily, and she protested, "You're sick, Ares!"

"Nah, just twisted, and you know what I mean!" he laughed wickedly, and dove for her neck.

Being caught in the realm of Morpheus, the powers normally possessed by Sorrow were impaired by the ultimate power of her own subconscious, and without her conscious mind to help her, she was an easy target for Ares' lust. Caught in his iron-like grip, she could feel his heat and sense the life that sprang into his burgeoning member, and somehow the idea of the skilled way he had made love to her filtered into her dream to the point that she found herself succumbing to his lascivious touches. It was almost beyond her control, and Ares knew it. With brazen boldness, he possessed her mouth with his own while his right hand caressed her breast roughly.

And then her uterus contracted once more, causing her body to seize up, and she fell away from his hold, gasping for air.

"Owww," she moaned in response to the incredible pain, and Ares immediately lowered her to the bed.

"What's happening to you, Sorrow!?" he demanded. "Tell me where you are - I'll come and help you!"

Sorrow was beset with pain, but she was still able to smile back sardonically, "Yeah, I'd just bet you'd come help me! No, thank you, Ares - I'm more than prepared to deal with this on my own!"

"I have a right - "

"YOU HAVE NOTHING!" Sorrow roared. "You could not steal my heart, and you did not plant your seed in me! This child is human, and you can't change that, Ares. This is the pain of human childbirth, and I'm going to relish and remember every single moment of it, because ultimately it will help me to better serve humanity! It was Iolaus who gave me this child, and I will deliver it safely to him. Do you understand me, Ares?"

"Implicitly," Ares spat through clenched jaws, and then he did something totally unexpected. With a great sigh, he settled down beside her and put his arm around her, holding her close as he said, "I'll stay with you til you wake up - "

"Why?" Sorrow demanded instantly, looking at him as though he had suddenly grown two heads.

"Because you're in pain, Sorrow. We gods don't handle pain very well - I know from experience," he replied truthfully, unsure why he felt sympathy for the girl now. "I'm staying with you the way Xena stayed with me."

Sorrow flinched slightly at the mention of the Warrior Princess, and she knew immediately that she had done wrong, but she covered quickly, "I'm surprised she'd ever want to help you - you've been the bane of her existence!"

"I have been the driving force of her existence!" he amended, some of his arrogance returning. "It is only logical that in a time of need, Xena would come to my aid the way I have always been there for her."

"If you love her so much, why have you done this?" she asked sincerely, her pains now fully subsided. "Don't you know that she'll eventually find out what you've done, and it will only drive you farther apart?"

"Xena is, above all, a strategist," Ares argued. "She will understand that I have done what I had to in order to achieve my goals. The end justifies the means - "

"Tell that to her heart, Ares!" Sorrow interjected unhappily. "I know her sorrows, and I know where you are to blame for them! For her, this will be more than just another minor betrayal."

"Things aren't always as they seem, my sweet Sorrow," the war god murmured into her ear. "You might say, she has come to...expect it...of me."

"Then, surprise her every once in a while and do the right thing," she advised wearily. "You might actually get somewhere with her!"

Ares laughed softly at the point she made, for it was a most valid one. In his experience, he had found that no matter how many bad plots and awful schemes he had devised, just one or two well-planned efforts for the Bard's "Greater Good" seemed to always restore him to the Warrior Princess' good graces.

~ Well, good enough to be earning more and more...privileges...with her, anyway, ~ he thought to himself.

It did seem that the closer he got to Xena, the more good deeds he found himself performing. In but a few years, he had gone from doing maybe one good act a season to doing at least two or three, and it had paid off handsomely with him finally earning the rare gift of tasting her lips from time to time. He relished each memory with great fondness, for Xena was like fire under his hands, and even though he always got burned, he adored the scars the Warrior Princess left on him.

However, because he felt they made him "soft", he tried hard to keep himself from lingering on the other liberties he'd once taken in the dreams he'd invaded while she slept. But the memories reigned tyrant over his mind and would not let him forget. In Morpheus' realm, all touch was as good as real, and within Xena's own mind he'd made love to her dozens of times till they'd both cried out in their mutual ecstasy. He almost shuddered as he recalled seeing her towering above him, her raven tresses spilling about her beautiful face as she stared down upon him with smoldering, sapphire eyes, riding him for what seemed like hours. By the time he'd been ordered to stop infiltrating her dreams, he knew exactly what it took to melt her mental and physical defenses, and even more importantly, what it took to make her squeal with pleasure. Nothing in all of Olympus thrilled him as much as did hearing her shriek his name over and over while in the throes of passion, and if all went his way in the near future, he'd be hearing it for real sometime very soon.

And for that, there was nothing he wouldn't do.

"Okay," he muttered softly, and Sorrow's head whipped around to look at him quizzically.

"What did you say?"

Ares leaned his forehead to hers in a rare moment of true tenderness as he spoke, "I'm going to back off, Sorrow - for now. If you are carrying Iolaus'...human...child, Xena would never forgive me if you lost it, so I'm going to let you go."

"Are you serious?" she asked timidly, afraid to trust him even with his eyes but an inch from hers. "Just like that, you're going to let me go?"

"Yes, for once, I do mean it," Ares nodded gently, then smiled. "I won't stop looking for you out there, but I think you already knew that."

"Yes, I did," Sorrow smiled sadly, "but I suppose you wouldn't be you if you gave up so easily."

"That's right," he affirmed with a great sigh. "We are, after all, beings of habit and rather confounding predictability."

Sorrow laughed a little at his small joke, and said with a rather conciliatory voice, "I'm sorry things didn't turn out the way you planned, Ares. I know you're used to getting your way."

"Not always," he admitted with a small grin. "I don't have Xena yet, do I?"

Sorrow's smile quickly faded when she heard what he said, for his tone seemed to harbor some air of expectation, and she knew that it was well within his capabilities to do most anything if it meant that he'd one day have the Warrior Princess for his own. The goddess had already seen that he could easily imprison another god if it caused Hercules pain. She had figured out long ago that Ares had initially presumed that her great love, as predicted by the Fates, was actually Hercules, and so he had captured her as a means of hurting him and adding insult to a long list of injuries. She hated to think of how many people the God of War had used - and would use in the future - to gain the romantic cooperation of Xena.

She could only pray that her own presence was of no real danger to the object of Ares' desire, for Xena surely had Iolaus with her by now, and she feared for his well-being as much as she feared for the life of his unborn child. Sorrow could not bear to think of anyone being harmed for helping her, and knowing Ares, he would be furious if he found his greatest love escorting his greatest rival to the very cave wherein Sorrow hid. Ares had obviously become intensely involved with the Warrior Princess in the short time that she had been imprisoned, and Sorrow knew well to fear for anyone who might be perceived as standing in his way.

"I - I wish I knew what to tell you, Ares" Sorrow finally replied, "but Xena cannot be controlled by the gods. You will have to earn her if you want her that badly."

"Then it seems I have my work cut out for me," he smiled sardonically, grabbing hold of her in time to support her through another hard contraction, which wracked her body unmercifully for a few minutes. After it passed, Ares commented, "I think you'd better wake up, Sorrow. I don't believe your human child will wait much longer!"

"Thank you for letting me go," she whispered, unable to speak aloud the unusual words, and the room about her seemed to fade into nothingness as the light of the rebuilt fire in the cave broke through the darkness and led her back to consciousness.

On to Chapter Twenty Eight

Back to The Power & The Passion