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Language:
English
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Published:
2018-03-07
Updated:
2019-09-12
Words:
13,818
Chapters:
3/?
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10
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27
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The Messenger

Summary:

Eve learns of an attack on Amazon land, and journeys to Italia with her once enemy, Varia, to discover who is now planning a genocide of Amazons.

Notes:

This contains similarities to a fic I wrote over a year ago called "The Journey Begins" and some similarities to other fics in my pervious series "Eve: The Messenger of Eli." If you read those and you recognize some of the similarities, know that this is a COMPLETELY different fic. It will feature a new story post-Friend in Need, as well as flashbacks from Eve's time in Rome as Livia.

There will be some mentions of rape eventually, and one brief mentioning of assault in the first chapter, but nothing explicit.

Chapter Text

I was twenty years old the first time I entered Amazon land– at least the first time I remember. My name was slowly spreading outside the provinces of Rome, gaining notoriety and inspiring fear as I conquered territory after territory for my empire. At the time, I was Livia, the future wife of Augustus Caesar and fierce commander for the country of Italia. My country's people had already begun calling me the Bitch of Rome, but even then, no one knew the kind of monster I would become. The Amazons were the first to find out; the first people I killed in absolute cold blood.

It was early morning when my army arrived onto Greece. I was used to being up before the sun, often watching it rise from a palace window before Augustus, or anyone else who might want something from me, could wake up. Sometimes I would walk around the forgotten trails of Rome, finding spiders and letting them crawl up my arm as the light slowly filtered through the trees. On the day of my Amazon invasion, I watched it rise again, covering the land in its golden glow as my men got in line and marched inland. By noon, we were loading beaten and bloody women onto our ships.

The screams from the battle echoed in my head, though the chained women being pushed onto my boat hardly made a sound. I had decimated their tribe and they knew they couldn’t defeat my army. About half remained at their camp alive, surrounded by the dead bodies of their sisters and the knowledge that I had taken the rest captive. I was going to sell them as slaves.

The esteemed warlord, Gurkhan, was known for taking women as wives against their will, especially women and girls deemed to be “exotic” and rare. I sailed to North Africa hoping he would be my highest bidder. The amazons turned out not to be the type of exotic Gurkhan or any of his slave-holding cohorts desired. They were too fierce, too strong-willed. They weren’t suitably domestic for the taste of rich and powerful men. When I went to auction them off, the sisters spat in the faces of their bidders. They cursed at any man who looked lower than their necks and swore the wrath of Artemis onto any who dared touch them. Even if they knew they couldn’t win, and that they’d certainly be killed, they wouldn’t be a man’s slave. Every bid was withdrawn and I couldn’t make a single profit.

The men laughed at me; told me I knew nothing about what a man looks for in a wife. “I can show you what makes a good bride,” one old, drunk voice whispered over my shoulder. I’ll never forget the feeling of his dry, cracked hand pushing under my chest armour onto the skin of my breast. I elbowed him in the face before he could get his fingers to my nipple, but other men looked to me in similar sentiments.

I left the market in a rage, stopping only to punch a few slave-traders as they jokingly reached for my body, slurring things like “I’ll put an auction on you any day, sweetheart.” By the time I got back to my ship, my mentor was waiting for me, laughing as he watched my men pull the Amazons by their chains back onto the boat.

“No takers, huh?” Ares said.

I didn’t look at him as I yanked the last of the Amazons back on board by their shackles, kicking and punching the most resistant right in their wounds until they stopped fighting.

“Oh you’re not mad at me, are you?” He chuckled.

“This was your idea,” I said, then ordered my men to sail forward.

“Don’t blame me because you’re no good at making a sale,” he said.

“There was no way to convince them,” I said. “They wanted nothing to do with Amazons. They want women they can break and overpower. They’re sick and perverted. They’re-”

“Men?” Ares said, laughing again. “What did you expect? You want to rule this entire world and you can’t even handle a room full of rich drunks thinking with their dicks? Get a hold of yourself, Livia.”

He snapped his fingers and was gone from the ship, vanishing before I could defend myself or accuse him of misleading me. As we traveled out of the region, I made the coldest decision of my life up until that point. I was worse than a self-serving, power-hungry commander.

I threw the Amazons overboard my ship, their shackles still clasped over their hands and feet. The screams lasted only a few moments before being muffled by the deep waters of the Mediterranean. It was the first time since I was a child that I felt no pride or contentment in conquering a fierce opponent. The Amazons had been no threat to me, and there was no dignity in taking the lives of women bound in chains. But for the first time, I also felt no guilt or sadness in the murder of defenseless victims. I made the decision to turn away fully from whatever compassion and mercy still lived inside me. From that day forward, I left any remnants of a moral conscience behind as I turned my attention to the search for absolute power. This is what turned me into a monster.

Almost nine years have passed since that unforgivable incident, and I’ve spent the last two trying to atone for all of my wicked deeds. The Amazons have shown me mercy in the two trips I’ve made onto their land since. Theirs and many others’ ability to forgive me and my past has made my path toward compassion and peace possible. There only two people who have helped me more: Eli, my one true God, and Xena, my mother. Like me, my mother chose a path of light and love only after overcoming darkness and crushing guilt. Long after I decided my soul was doomed for hell, she rescued me from the corruption of my empire, and lead me away from the sins of my past. Though she is now gone, I know her memory will stay with me always.

Two years after ending my reign of terror on the world, I was on my way back to Amazon land, traveling with Gabrielle, my mother’s faithful partner. Looking at her, I was reminded of all the good my mother had done for this world. Before meeting Xena, Gabrielle was a young, naive village girl, writing fictitious tales of adventure in her hometown of Potidaea, wishing she could have stories of her own. After years with my mother, she did, and many at that. The scrolls Gabrielle wrote of their time together were so near and dear to my heart. Having spent the first 25 years of my life without my mother, reading stories of her adventures inspired me on my own path when I felt so lost.

Gabrielle was also inspiring to me. She was no longer just a young poet from Potidaea. She was a strong, brave, and wise warrior herself, taking all the lessons she learned from my mother and using them to help others. Even with her many experiences in violence and war, she was a beacon of light and hope, always believing in the good of man and the power of peace. It was no wonder she was one of the first disciples of my God. Without Gabrielle as well, my path into the light of Eli would not have been possible.

“She would be so proud of you, you know,” I said to her. She forced a small smile and looked to me with unconvinced eyes.

“Thanks, Eve,” she said. “Just wish she could be the one to tell me that.”

For a while after her death, the ghost of my mother stayed beside Gabrielle, coaching her through battles and keeping her company at night while she dealt with her newfound loneliness. Gabrielle said it was the only thing that put her at ease with Xena’s passing. As time went on, she was visited by Xena’s spirit less and less, hearing her only when she desperately needed encouragement. One night, she heard a soft voice whisper, “Thank you,” as she drifted to sleep. It was the last time she heard my mother.

By the time Gabrielle found me traveling in the East, her spirit was hollow. I saw her from across a village in Samje, but I knew even from far away that she was barely hanging on. Her head sunk low, her shoulders slouched, and as she came closer, I could see the area beneath her eyes had darkened like someone was literally sucking the light out of her.

I had known weeks before of my mother’s passing. My eastern journey as the Messenger of Eli started in Chin, a land not far from Jappa, where my mother was killed. Along with the news that Xena had been beheaded in battle, something that pompous warlords loved to laugh over in taverns, I heard legends of a new warrior, The Battling Bard of Potidaea, an Amazon who had inherited the chakram of the Warrior Princess and continued her fight for the greater good. Gabrielle was being heralded as a hero, one that brought hope to those in need of a brighter and more just future. Though I missed my mother greatly, I knew her memory would live on as long as people like Gabrielle were around to inspire others with her greatness and bravery. When I realized Gabrielle’s own light had begun to dim, I knew she couldn’t continue on her journey as she had been; so I joined her on a trip back to Greece where she could rejoin the Amazon nation and settle in as their Queen.

As we walked toward camp, I looked to Gabrielle. Physically, she was stronger than I had ever seen her. The months after Xena’s death had propelled her into a life of hard fighting. Without my mother around to take out tougher enemies, Gabrielle was left to handle every nasty warlord and criminal on her own. This forced her to get tougher, faster, and more determined than ever before. I imagine, as well, that Xena’s death pushed her into fighting more frequently. I know a thing or two about using battle as a distraction from your own thoughts and pain, and I could see so much pain in her.

But underneath her hardened muscle, there was a woman breaking apart in mourning. The once spirited bard, hungry for enlightenment and eager to share a human connection with anyone, now walked through life half alive, barely making it from battle to battle. In our entire journey from Samje back to Greece, I seldom heard Gabrielle speak about anything more than how far we were from our destination and where our next stop should be.

“She’s with you, Gabrielle,” I said as we walked onto the border of Amazon lands. “I know it.”

I didn’t know it, but I knew Gabrielle needed something to hold onto as she journeyed into her new life without her best friend. I also knew that I couldn’t stay long to settle her once we reached the Amazon camp. While my crimes against the Amazons had been forgiven, and I was no longer banished from their lands, my presence among them was not in favor of much of the sisterhood. I could be pardoned for every crime I had ever committed, change my name from Livia to Eve, but I could never fully wash away the blood that stained my hands or heal the pain I’ve caused. Coming onto Amazon lands, expecting the women to look into my eyes and remember how I once nearly destroyed their proud nation, would just be waking trauma best left asleep.

As we walked further, I allowed my head to fall lower, looking only to the ground as we pushed toward camp. Keeping a low profile, I thought, would be the most respectful thing I could do. Bring Gabrielle into the camp, ensure that she’s well and safe, then leave before bringing attention to myself. Perhaps I would make a visit to one Amazon, the one who pardoned me from execution, to express my undying gratitude. No matter how far from Greece and Rome I traveled, she was on my mind always, both for the shame and guilt I felt, and the respect I held for her willingness to forgive.

“Eve, look,” Gabrielle said after a few moments. I brought my head up, thinking we were close enough to see some of the huts of the village or maybe a few Amazons hunting. What I saw was smoke reaching high into the sky, above the trees and coming from directly ahead of us, in the Amazon village. A second later I began to smell it.

“C’mon,” she said.

Gabrielle began sprinting ahead and I followed. I couldn’t imagine what was going through her head now. The Amazons were a family to both Gabrielle and my mother, but they were constantly under attack from warlords, empires, or bratty wannabe-empresses seeking power and fame. A fire could have erupted at the Amazon village for any number of reasons, ranging from a brutal attack to some planned ritual. I knew that Gabrielle’s swift sprint toward the camp didn’t mean the Amazons were surely in danger, but she couldn’t risk it. She had lost Xena, she wouldn’t lose her sisters, too.

As we approached the camp, the Amazon village appeared empty on the outskirts. We couldn't see a single person, but heard drums and chanting from not far away.

“It’s just an Amazon ritual or something,” I said, relieved and slightly out of breath from our run into camp. “Where's the village center? It's probably there."

Gabrielle nodded and lead me further in. On our way through the deserted-looking camp, the smell of smoke became stronger. I knew the smell well, though it was always hard to describe. It was like a mixture of feces, rotting meat, and a sweet perfume. Since I was nineteen, I had never been able to get this smell completely out of my nose. It was always hiding there, tightly clinging to the hairs of my nostrils, just in case I ever forgot. This could be no regular ritual.

I looked to Gabrielle as we entered the center of the village. Her eyes welled up with tears as she dropped her sais and cradled her head. Ahead of us, the Amazons stood circled around a burning pile of their sisters, watching as the smoke blackened the sky above them.