Disclaimer: The characters of Xena: Warrior Princess and Gabrielle are owned by RenPic and Universal. This story depicts a love/sexual relationship between two consenting adult women. If you are under 18 years of age or if this type of story is illegal in the state or country in which you live, please do not read it. If depictions of this nature disturb you, you may wish to read something other than this story.
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A Bards Tale 2
I reach for her, but she is gone.
"A dream." I whisper to the morning sky. My eyes cloud with tears.
My heart breaks anew. I feel hollow.
I sit up, and see it. My blouse placed neatly by my side.
My soul rejoices. "She is mine, she is mine." I am joy and rapture.
I need to see her, be near her, touch her. I dress in a rush.
She lifts her head at my approach. And he is there. Marcus. Her face is shuttered to my eyes. He reaches for her, and she brushes him away. I enjoy guilty pleasure at his pain.
"We have to go." She says her voice low.
To catch a madman, my thoughts finish.
I know he feels the change, the tension. He glances at her frequently and then to me. I wonder if she feels the weight of my gaze. And, as if she knew my thoughts, she turns to me her lovely eyes beseeching. For what, Forgiveness? Understanding? She has all that from me and more.
All I was before is gone, like leaves in a bitter wind. I am hers, and hers alone. My soul sings the memories of the night. The touch of her skin, the warmth of her kiss, the powerful feeling of her body on mine.
She stops her stride and administers to some wounded men. Again I am moved by her compassion. This strong warrior that so easily softens to a healer. I stand aside my hungry eyes watching only her. Marcus watching only me.
We move on, her pace now anxious. Unlike Marcus, who knew her before, I recognize this restlessness. "He does not know her at all." I think to myself. He knows only her past, what she has done. I know her now. The pleasure this thought gives me is seductive.
We arrive at the village, already she has a plan. She shares this with me, not Marcus. I glow with delight. "She trusts me above him." I chastise myself for my ignoble thoughts, but just as quickly relish the preference.
She sends him away to guard the maiden, who he believes is my warrior. I alone stand by her side. She lays down on the bridal bed, sheer cloth covering her beautiful face. I wrap the covers lightly around her. And murmur soft words of comfort. Her eyes burn. From desire, or the nearing battle I do not know.
Her hand touches mine the lightest of caresses. I leave her.
The battle is quickly won. The madman lay at her feet. The cloth I had used to cover her so gently, smeared with his blood. She grasps a golden helmet in her hands. She looks at me now, her gaze sorrowful. "There is something Marcus and I need to do."
I wait for her at the lake. My staff trailing meaningless designs in the sand. I glance often at the calm water. Waiting for her to break the surface. Minutes flow easily into hours. I feel the growing hammering of my heart.
"She will be here, she would not leave me." I repeat these words. Lips following their pattern of sound.
A ripple on the water. And she rises, her raven hair slick against her sculptured face. She staggers. It takes a moment for me to accept that I have never seen her stumble. I rush to her side offering my shoulder. She leans against me. This closeness alone causes a wave of sensation.
She is shivering, and sits on the sand. I sit beside her. Her eyes are lost in the water. I offer what comfort I can. The words I utter like razors on my heart. "You will be with him again." I say.
She does not look at me. She tightens her fist, places it against her breast. "He is here." She murmurs. My soul shatters like glass.
She finally rises. Without another look she leaves the lake. I follow. We walk in silence.
I am numb. Everything I thought before, gone. Taken from me before I had a chance. She finds a place to camp for the night. I make a fire, and set our blankets close.
She is so sheltered to me. My heart weeps. My eyes remain dry. I feign tiredness and crawl into my blankets. I curl into myself. I hear her move, and shift around camp.
And then, a soft touch. I turn over facing her. Her eyes are desolate. The sadness so deep I open my arms to her. She cries like a child, her head huddled against my shoulder. I stroke her hair and whisper to her. She tells me of her love for Marcus, and what she had to do to release him to the Elysian Fields.
I cry with her. This woman who has lost so much. Her family, her village, her friends, her lover. Her weeping stops. A stillness comes between us. The moment. I wait, I wait, and then she kisses me.
Her lips as soft and warm as I remembered. A saltiness from her tears flavor them. I open my own lips. Instinctively knowing what she needs. She moans against my mouth. Her hands clutching at my sides. I give myself to her. I feel her hands part my thighs, and groan in response.
Her fingers are gentle as they enter me. My hips rise. "Please." Is the only word I say. Her mouth settles on my breast. Stroking through cloth. I'm so new, the simple touch of her hands and tongue set me ablaze. I shudder.
She pulls me close, and kisses me again. I want to touch her, please her. Her hands still mine. "I do love you Gabrielle." Her eyes softer than I have ever seen. And in them, for the first time, I see the promise of tomorrow. "I have always loved you Xena." I whisper.
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