The Tavernkeeper's Sister
Part 1

by Ella Quince
quince@shentel.net

DISCLAIMER: The characters of Xena and Gabrielle are property of MCA /Universal. No copyright infringement was or is intended. This fiction may contain descriptions of a sexual nature between two consenting adult women. Please do not continue if you are under 18 years of age or this is illegal in your locale.

THE PROLOGUE

A spark.

Then another.

Oil-soaked wood caught fire, then blazed into a passionate dance of heat and ash. Locks of reddish-blond hair mixed with the licking flame, then curled to black char.

The body burned more slowly.

When the funeral pyre was reduced to smoking rubble, the warrior turned and walked back into the forest.

PART ONE

I noticed her right away. It was hard not to. In a tavern full of farmers and tradesman, an armor-clad warrior is rather conspicuous, even when she sits at a table in the back of the room and stares down at her hands.

"Has she ever been here before?" I asked Nicos as I waited for him to fill empty cups from the wine cask.

"No," he said. My brother was used to my questions by now and answered them with endless patience. "And with luck, she'll never come here again. We can do without her business."

"Why? Who is she?"

But this time he shook his head. "You don't need to know everything."

I bit back an angry reply and busied myself with filling up a tray with drinks. I knew so little that his refusal seemed almost cruel, but there was no time to argue the point.

Keeping my curiosity in check, I served the regulars first: ale for the tanner and the weaver, port for the blacksmith, and hot barley water for the elderly farmer who was too poor to leave a tip but always treated me with respect.

"You're getting good at this, Larissa," said the old man as I placed the mug in front of him. "You learn fast."

"I have a good memory," I said dryly.

He patted my hand with his gnarled fingers, and for that gesture of kindness I vowed to sneak him some wine before the evening was over.

There was one last cup left on my tray, so I cautiously approached the stranger. I was no expert on warriors, but even I could see the coiled tension in her muscled shoulders and arms. Judging from the mud splattered on her boots and the faint reek of horse sweat, she had been riding long and hard. With her unruly black hair and deep brown leathers, she was like a storm cloud of darkness.

Then she looked up, and I found more vibrant color in her eyes than in this entire dreary village. When the silence between us had stretched too long for comfort's sake, I recovered my breath and said, "Port?"

She nodded, and that slight movement drew my attention to the harsh planes of her face. "You look like you could use some food, too. When was the last time you ate?" My question startled her, and she frowned in thought, which was all the answer I needed. "I'll bring you some soup from the kitchen." She nodded again, and I began to wonder whether she had a voice at all. But when I returned to her table with a bowl of broth and a thick slice of buttered bread, the warrior finally spoke.

"Thank..." Her voice had a hoarse quality to it, as if she didn't talk often. She cleared her throat and said more clearly,"Thank you...Larissa. I hadn't realized how hungry I was."

Her accent was foreign to these parts, smoother and darker toned. My name sounded almost melodious on her lips, and I decided I could grow to like it if I heard her say it often enough.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"Yes," she said quickly, then seemed to grope for an answer, "...salt...I could use some salt."

She hadn't even tasted her soup yet, but I fetched a small dish of salt from the kitchen and watched as her lean fingers sifted the grains into her bowl. There was no other excuse to linger--not when it was late and we had so many customers--but even if the warrior and I had been the only two people in the room I couldn't imagine that I had anything to say that would interest this woman. I left her to eat in peace.

Yet, for the rest of the night I felt her watching me. It must have been my imagination. Each time I looked back over my shoulder her face was turned toward the fireplace. Then, not long before we closed, I glanced at the back of the room and she was gone. She had left without saying a word...not that I'd expected she would speak to me again...or perhaps I had.

As my brother barred the door behind our last customer, I wondered where she would spend the night. We offered the only lodging for miles around and she wasn't staying in one of our rooms. She must have camped--

"Larissa!" My brother's voice, usually so gentle, was loud with dismay.

Too late, I noticed the shifting balance of weight on the tray in my hands. Despite my desperate effort to juggle my load back into place, two cups fell to the floor and shattered. Dregs of red wine splashed across my sandals.

"I'm sorry," I said with a sigh. Setting the tray aside, I stooped to gather the shards of clay, but my brother took my elbow and pulled me to my feet.

"You're tired," he said. "Go on to bed."

"But I can't leave you with all my work." I had straightened up too quickly, and the room began to twirl around me. If not for his steadying hand, I would have fallen.

"You're pale as a sow's belly. The healer warned you not to work too hard, so do as I say and go to bed."

With a weary nod, I left him to clean up the mess our customers had made, as well as the mess I had made. Perhaps it was just as well the warrior hadn't stayed here; it would have meant even more work for poor Nicos. And yet....

Slipping my hand into the pocket of my skirt, I fingered the large coin I had found tucked beneath the empty wooden bowl on the warrior's table. It was a very generous tip, more than my service had deserved.

Just what had she been thanking me for?

I was jolted out of sleep in the middle of the night, my body gasping and trembling from a dream vision that was already fading from my memory. Despite my pounding heart, I wasn't afraid. An emotion other than fear had pulled me out of the arms of Morpheus...

...and out of the arms of the warrior.

I remembered...but no, I remembered nothing.

Curling up on my side, I tried to recapture the oblivion of sleep, only to find myself thinking about the warrior again.

It was her eyes that had drawn me. They shone with an icy-blue brightness. One look at those eyes and I had known she had a cunning mind and a restless spirit. One look at those eyes and suddenly my life had seemed unbearably dull.

She came back the next evening.

This time I saw her as soon as she pushed aside the tavern door. She strode through the room, head held high, staring down the curious as she made her way to the table where she had sat before. The wild tangle of her hair had been brushed into submission and twisted into an intricate braid that ran down her back. She was taller than I had realized and moved with muscular grace.

"Don't gawk," said Nicos, handing me a tankard of port.

When I served her, I noticed that the chalky pallor of her skin had deepened to bronze, all traces of dirt had been worked out of her worn leathers, and the brass swirls of her breastplate were gleaming, even in torchlight.

"I'm more presentable tonight," she said wryly.

I blushed that she could read my thoughts so easily. "You weren't that bad last night." She raised an eyebrow, and I felt my cheeks grow even warmer . "Oh... I... I... didn't mean...."

"Too bad," she said. Her laugh was teasing, but not cruel. "I don't often get compliments from young women... at least not often enough."

With a shiver of amazement I realized she was flirting with me. The next move was mine, but my wits had scattered; I couldn't think of a clever retort.

She misunderstood my hestation. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

Watching her face grow somber and contrite, I found my voice again. "I wasn't offended," I confessed, "just speechless."

Her smile returned. "I have that effect on some people."

My pride stung just a little at that remark, and I found myself explaining. "I'm new at all of this. I haven't been working at the tavern for very long."

"Oh, really?"

Her curiosity seemed genuine and invited an answer. "My parents died this last winter, so I came here to live with my brother."

"Your brother... that would be the man behind the bar who keeps glaring at me."

I could well imagine the expression on his face right now. "Nicos hadn't seen me since I was a child, so he's a little over-protective, but he means well."

"I'm sure he does," she said softly. "But that doesn't make it any easier."

"No." Who would have thought a warrior could be so understanding. Too understanding. I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out how lonely I was here, a newcomer in a community that did not welcome outsiders.

"Larissa!" My brother's call saved me from the humiliation of further revelations.

"I have to get back to work," I muttered, and fled from her sympathy.

Several hours passed before we could talk again. The warrior sat quietly nursing her drink as the tavern filled with more and more people. To my amusement, she began to fidget as soon as Pestir started his first oration. I expected her to leave then, but when she didn't I brought her a fresh cup of wine.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"Of what?"

She nodded toward the scrawny young man whose arms were waving wildly in the air. "Of the bard."

I was too tired to lie or even answer tactfully. "He's not very good."

She didn't react one way or another. "Everyone else seems to be enjoying his tale," she said in an uninflected voice, and sipped her port.

It was true. The villagers were laughing and clapping, and I could hear the chink of coins being thrown at his feet. I frowned and wished the throbbing in my head would ease; the smell of spilled ale was making me feel nauseous. "I don't care what everyone else thinks. He's still not very good."

She smiled ever so faintly, and I read approval in her expression.

Soon after that, she left. Not soon enough for Nicos, however.

"Don't talk to her so much," my brother scolded. "She's a wild one is that Xena, and the tales that are told about her are not for your ears."

Xena...so that was her name.

As soon as the tavern closed and my chores were done, I slipped out into the cool night air and went in search of the village bard. In exchange for a sloppy kiss and a groping feel of my breasts, Pestir told me all about the Warrior Princess.

By the next day, like sparrows twittering over the appearance of a hawk, the entire village was gossiping about the warrior. Someone claimed to have seen the glow of her campfire, another a glimpse of a golden horse, but no one could say for certain where she was camped or what had brought her to this valley. For all their talk behind her back, the villagers didn't have the courage to say anything in her presence. Everyone fell silent when she entered our tavern that third night.

I reached for my serving tray, but my brother said, "I'll take care of this." His footsteps echoed loudly on the floorboards as he walked up to the warrior's table and slammed down a cup in front of her. Unruffled by his rudeness, she thanked him for the drink, and Nicos had the grace to look slightly sheepish when he came back.

Eventually, when she did nothing more dramatic than sip her wine, the crowded room resumed its normal hum of activity. I waited until Nicos was busy in the kitchen to stop by her table. When she looked up at me there was a hint of relief in her expression, as if she'd been waiting for me to approach her... and not certain that I would. Her doubt gave me the courage to speak boldly.

"I hear you travel with someone -- a bard named Gabrielle."

"I did."

There was an undercurrent of pain in her voice. I should have stopped asking questions then, but I needed to know more. "And?"

She drew a deep breath. "And she was... hurt... in a fight, when I wasn't there to protect her."

"Where is she now?"

The warrior's body, always controlled, grew more still yet; her face, cut out of stone, was impossible to read. "We don't travel together anymore."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nicos return to the bar. My time was up. Reaching for her empty cup, I said in a low voice, "I'll be in the stables tomorrow, early."

I didn't wait to see her reaction. If I was wrong about what she wanted, I didn't need to learn it now. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough to be embarassed by my fantasies.

The sun had barely risen above the horizon when I eased open the stable door and slipped inside, taking a deep breath of the comforting smell of leather and hay and horses.

Xena was waiting for me.

During the night I had convinced myself she wouldn't come, that I had made a fool of myself for even thinking she cared enough to meet me here, alone. Seeing her now made me reckless with joy, reckless enough to move so close that I could touch her if I just reached out my hand.

"I liked it better when you were sitting down." I angled my head up to meet her gaze. "You weren't quite so imposing."

"I'm even friendlier lying down," she said with a knowing smile.

So, my desire was that obvious. I saw an answering fire in her eyes, but I wondered once again why this warrior was drawn to me, a common village girl. There were any number of unlikely reasons and one rather obvious possibility. "What does she look like?"

Xena turned away, not able to meet my eyes. "Who?"

I ignored this clumsy evasion. "Is she taller than me? She could hardly be much smaller if she fought beside you."

"She's about your size," Xena said at last.

"And is her hair black or brown... or blond?"

With a defeated sigh, the warrior turned back to face me. She raised a hand to brush a lock of my hair from my face. Her fingers played with the reddish-blond strands. "She's about your color."

Then I felt the light touch of her fingertips tracing a line on my left temple. "But no scar," I said, and winced at the memory of recent pain.

"It will fade."

"I'm not so sure."

Her hand came to rest at the base of my neck and began to knead tense muscles. With a thoughtful frown, she asked, "How did you get hurt?"

"On my way here... my caravan was attacked by raiders. Nicos says this village will be next. "

"You don't need to worry about the raiders anymore," she said in a voice as soothing as her caresses. "Just concentrate on getting well and--" She broke off abruptly. There was more she wanted to say, but I could tell from the tight set of her lips that she had decided against it.

I pulled away from her, reluctant to leave but suddenly shy of staying any longer. "I have to get back to the tavern or my brother will come looking for me."

Her only protest was a soft sigh, enough of a reaction to flatter without pressuring me to linger. She could easily have overpowered me, yet her restraint promised a leisurely and gentle seduction.

When I reached the door, I looked back. A question must have been written on my face because she said, "Yes, I'll be there."

True to her word, she sauntered into the tavern that night... and into the trap that had been set for her.

Nicos was clever enough to keep the plans a secret from me. Perhaps he suspected my loyalty was divided and I would be tempted to warn her; perhaps he wanted to shield me from distress for as long as possible; or perhaps, just perhaps, he knew that I was the bait for this trap, and he wanted to keep me innocent of the part I was to play in Xena's destruction.

"By Hades, she's back again!" Nicos had grumbled as the warrior settled at her usual table. "Worse luck. She's starting to scare away my customers."

Lost in my own thoughts, I readily accepted this explanation for the sparse evening attendance. If I had paid more attention to my surroundings and less to the quickening beat of my heart, I might have noticed that none of our regulars were present and that the strangers who were scattered about the room had an edge of danger about them.

"Here," Nicos said with a resigned sigh, "take her some wine and keep her occupied."

It was hard to keep the grin off my face when I carried the full cup over to the warrior. She arched an eyebrow in surprise when I plopped down in a chair across from her.

"We're not very busy tonight," I explained, "so I'm under orders to entertain you."

Her answering smile was cooler than I had expected, and my confidence faltered when her voice echoed that lack of warmth. "Your brother is in a mellow mood tonight. I wonder why?"

"Well, probably because he's relieved to hear the raiders aren't coming." I hadn't meant to launch into this sober topic so soon, but suddenly more frivolous chatter seemed out of place. "There's been a defense force out looking for them, but when they found the raider's camp all the warriors were dead. Someone else had wiped them out."

She shrugged, as if the news had nothing to do with her, but I could see a glint of satisfaction in her eyes when she said, "I told you not to worry about them anymore."

"That's true." At the time I had thought she was simply trying to reassure me. Now I knew better.

"So," her hand curled around the base of her cup, "where did Nicos hear this news?"

"Huh...I don't know." The question nagged at me, although I couldn't pinpoint why. "From a traveller, I guess..." A very well-informed traveller, evidently. I didn't mention the gossip about a mysterious funeral pyre that had also been found at the camp. The pyre was unusually small for a warrior, and now I was certain the ashen remains were those of a woman.

Of Gabrielle.

Not hurt. Dead. And although I held no grudge against the bard, I was relieved to know she couldn't come back into Xena's life; their journey together was over. I wondered just what the young woman had meant to Xena. Although I sensed a sadness in the warrior sitting across from me, she wasn't grief-stricken. Death must be a common occurence for her, so perhaps it wasn't so strange that she was already looking for companionship.

"Anyway," I said, eager to change the subject, "I wanted to--"

"Larissa!" I heard Nicos call out from behind the bar. "I need some help over here."

Annoyed by the interruption, I frowned and was about to refuse.

"Do as he says," said Xena tersely, her voice pitched low. "Hurry."

There was an urgency to her command that demanded immediate obedience. Bewildered, I rose from my seat, then froze as a sudden clarity of vision warned me of what was about to happen. "Xena...."

"Yes, I know," she said grimly. Our table went flying to one side as she jumped to her feet. "Stay out of the way. This won't take long."

In an explosion of movement her body shot up and flipped in mid-air, and by the time she landed in the middle of the room, her sword was unsheathed and swinging in a wide killing arc to meet the attack against her. But even as those men fell, a second wave of warriors poured in through every doorway. She met them with a ear-splitting war cry and a dazzling series of kicks that sent men careening into each other. She overturned tables and flung chairs about, transforming every piece of furniture in the room into a weapon or an obstacle. Although she was outnumbered twenty to one, within minutes she was the only warrior left standing in the tavern.

I stared, horrified, at the blood that was still dripping from the edge of her sword. If she had been any less skilled, it would have been her blood pooling on the floor.

"Why?" I asked. "Why would they do this?"

With a world-weary sigh, the warrior princess said, "For money, for revenge, for reputation, because the raiders were dead and there was no one else to fight... I'm tired of counting the reasons people want to kill me."

"Please, you have to get out of here. Nicos will be back soon with help."

"I promise I won't hurt him."

Her concern for my brother shamed me. Looking up, I said, "I was worried about you."

Blue eyes blazed with hope. "I'll leave now... if you come with me."

"Because I remind you of Gabrielle?"

"Because I love you."

I wanted to believe her, and that was enough reason to go.

We melted into the shadows of the night, leaving behind the shouted alarms of the town rousing for a fight against the warrior. But I knew they would never find her, not if she was determined to stay hidden. She led me through the forest with a touch to my arm or a whispered caution. The ground beneath my sandals grew steep and rocky, then she pulled me through a shadow that was darker than any other. I heard the crack of flint being struck, and a sudden blaze of torchlight illuminated the cave in which she had made camp.

After wedging the torch into a crack in the rockwall, she turned to face me. "We'll be safe here, Gabri--" She broke off, catching herself too late.

"You can't forget her, can you?" It wasn't really a question; I knew the answer. The only question was why I had fooled myself into believing she could love me instead of the dead bard. "I'm nothing more than a...a ghost taking her place in your life."

"You're not a ghost; you're very real."

"No more lies!"

"All right," she said grimly. "No more lies."

Her blue eyes deepened in color, taking on a smoky grey hue that was the reflection of some strong emotion she had kept hidden from me until now.

I waited.

"You aren't taking the place of Gabrielle... you are Gabrielle."

Silence hung between us for a heartbeat.

"That's crazy," I said, swallowing hard. "You're crazy!" It was dangerous to argue with a madwoman, especially one as formidable as this warrior, but I was too unsettled to keep my peace. "My name is Larissa. I have a brother named Nicos, and... and...." And it was time to run.

She sensed my panic before I even moved, and stepped in front of me to block my flight back down the mountain.

"I know you're confused, Gabrielle, but you've got to trust me."

"No!" What a fool I'd been to follow her. Now I was tangled in a net woven of her grief; the strands threatened to choke me. "No... I don't see how...."

"It was an honest mistake," the warrior said, with a calmness that echoed sanity. "Larissa looked very much like you, or at least she did before the raiders carried her off and...." She shuddered at some private vision. "You must have fought to protect her caravan, and when Nicos saw you among the wounded he claimed you as the sister he hadn't seen in years. He wanted to believe she had survived the attack."

I could I feel my life -- faint and insubstantial -- slipping from my grasp. Without memories of my own, I was nothing more than a tale told by others. "It's still just your word against his."

"I can prove you're Gabrielle."

"How?"

"I know you," she said with a slow smile. "There's no part of your body I haven't touched. Listen to my hands." She slipped a hand across the back of my neck and began a featherlight caress so delicious it made my head swim. Her other arm wrapped around my waist and caught me just before my knees gave way.

"Oh... how did...."

"I know you better than you know yourself," she said, pulling me into the circle of her arms. "And this is where you belong."

She kissed me with enough force to silence my protest and with enough gentleness to disarm my fear. There was no need for her to push me down onto the blankets; her embrace unstrung my limbs, and I sank beneath the weight of my own desire. At her whispered urging I uncovered myself, and my skin flushed under the heat of her gaze.

Then she lay down beside me, and with hands and lips and tongue she stole my body from me. Her caresses set the rhythm of my pulse and molded the arch of my back. She stopped my breath, then just as easily gave it back again, only twisted into gasps and moans. A fierce hunger grew under her hands, so fierce I heard myself begging for her to touch me here, touch me there, touch me harder.

"Sing for me," she commanded, and my cries rang out.

When my body had finally stopped its trembling, she said, "You're Gabrielle."

"Yes," I answered.

She believed enough for the both of us, so I stayed.

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Continued...Part 2


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