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Xena felt the kicks in her stomach, fierce, vivacious, and oh-so-alive, like the campfire burning in the belly of night.
Tonight was not a night of sleep. She reached over to her pack and wiped her sweaty brow with the quilted blanket Gabrielle bought for their future child. It was made by some master artisan out of a rare fabric with an even rarer sewing technique, so Gabrielle said, and somehow, that made the quilt exuberantly expensive. But how could she reject Gabrielle’s earnest green eyes, the sheer invigorating joy that was now rare to come by since they came back from heaven? And besides, the baby needed a blanket.
Gabrielle shifted in her sleep, subconsciously wrapping her arms around Xena’s stomach. Xena stilled her breath. She took Gabrielle’s hand and traced her fingers along a map of scratches and scabs. Then she lifted the hand to the firelight to examine every cross-hatch mark of skin. Were these the hands of a bard? The hands were like hers now—the hands of a warrior. Finger nails with dried blood, crisscrossed scars, valleys callouses. Hands that were too familiar with dagger hilts. Hands that knew how to strangle a man’s neck.
She placed Gabrielle’s hand on her stomach and fought against a wave of emotions. It was the pregnancy hormones, she convinced herself. But when she spared a glance at Gabrielle’s hardened face, a part of her broke. There was a shadow encircling Gabrielle eyes, etched with pain and grief and anger. Her jaw was tight, her breath sharp and agitated. Her face was not still like the hot spring, but still like the silence before an arrow’s release. She was not the innocent peasant girl she met, but a woman whose sorrow could only be answered with the blade. For so long, Xena had tried to protect her from ever picking up a sword. The sword was corruption, obsession, and destruction. It cut Callisto into existence, it razed the villages of innocents, it drew rivers of bloodshed—Xena could hear the screams of every soul she heartlessly murdered. She tried, tried so hard to prevent Gabrielle from experiencing the same agony. But she failed. The Gabrielle beside her was broken in a way Xena could never fix.
“Xena?” came a yawning voice.
“Gabrielle,” Xena whispered in response. Her beloved sat up, forehead wrinkled with concern.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s the baby again,” said Xena with a half-smile. She patted her stomach.
“It’s going to be a lot worse when the baby is born, you know. Say goodbye to our sleep,” said Gabrielle.
“At least we’ll have each other.”
Gabrielle twined their fingers together. “Now tell me the truth. Something else is on your mind.”
There was no point in lying. Gabrielle knew her so well it scared her.
“Alright,” she conceded. “What I said about minding your violence…”
Gabrielle stiffened. “This again?”
“You’re a warrior now,” Xena touched Gabrielle’s arm and was surprised to find the flush muscles beneath. She restrained herself from indulging her private desires. “And being a warrior means that you have a responsibility to wield your strength carefully. You pick and choose your battles. You use the sword as your last resort. The moment you become blinded by anger is the moment you lose control of yourself. That’s something you told me long ago.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“I can protect myself,” said Xena, half-laughing. But Gabrielle reached for her rounded stomach, her eyes darting carefully to hers. Xena softened her tone. “I know you’re worried about our child, but I can handle a lot of fight with this chakram.”
“Xena, I’ve seen how you move. You’re slower than you used to be. You get tired after fights more easily.”
“Hey, now. Watch what you say next.”
“I’m being serious!”
“So am I. Hurting an innocent person in the middle of a fight won’t make me any safer.”
Gabrielle winced and turned to the fire, the light catching her tender green eyes. The warrior’s veneer ebbed away, revealing a soft and fragile face. Xena’s heart twisted in her chest, and she worried if she had spoken wrongly. Gabrielle spoke quietly. “Do you hate the person I’ve become?”
She answered without hesitation and leaned her head against Gabrielle. “No. I could never hate you.”
“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” said Gabrielle.
Xena kissed the top of her head.
They wrapped their arms around each other, peering into the night, the spoken and unspoken drifting to the air like smoke.