But you won't be the usual fly, will you?

I can see long wings behind you, so many shades of grey that I wonder if I'll ever see them all.

I can see how tired you are. Tired of fighting for nothing, but you know that under my shadow your winnings will not be counted.

I have watched you for so long. Kept my hand over your head so no harm would come to you. I watched the meagre battle lessons in your village. I watched as it was taken and your brother's life with it. I watched as you swore death to everyone who dared cross your path.

Now, my beautiful chosen, I watch as you finally come to me.

There's anger in your eyes. Thirst for justice, you call it now. I wonder what name will you give your power after I'm through with you. You have vengeance in your lips, may that font never be dry.

You're so young. So very precious. Power covered by a body of sin, I cannot wait to have you as my own. I'll teach you techniques nobody has heard of, I'll invent them only for you. You will be my right arm, and I'll have the most perfect weapon crafted with the model of your hands. Others may laugh at me for choosing a mere girl as my priestess, but soon we'll teach them that Ares is never wrong.

We have eternity in our path. The world is waiting at our feet.

Yet you distrust me, my precious fly; you only come forward to step back again. I may be spider, but you won't let your wings touch my web. All my gifts to you and you still won't give me what I most want. Dancing around each other, I know that I will let you in even if it's not on my terms. There's plenty of time to make you mine .

I do not despair, I will catch you some day. But for now...

But somewhere along the way he lost her. She got a conscience, refused to play his games. Those beautiful plans made with her name in their lines, they just are not the same when she isn't there. Sometimes, very rare times, in those days where there are no battles to watch, no warriors to tempt to his side and no generals to manipulate, Ares wonders why he still tries to win her back.

It's not, although he says it, that she is the only one good enough for the job. Xena is good, but she is only human. No matter how many times she has thwarted his plans, Ares won’t use his full strength, instead using every fool under his thumb to try their luck against her. Because the truth is, if he really wanted her out of his way, she'd never win.

There are hundreds -thousands- of warriors at his disposition. Ares is sure that one or two have the potential to be like her, if he cared enough to teach them how to.

In those few times he wonders when the focus of his plans changed. When the promise of reigning over the world wasn’t enough. There are a thousand ways to being his plans to fruition, Xena would never be able to stop all of them. Yet not even the promise of having the world in his hands tastes like ashes if she's not there to share the glory.

That’s his dirty secret: Damn his plans, he wants her for himself.

It isn't his fault if he has to use a blindfold, it's in the rules. Somewhere. Wings and blindfold is what the mortal imagination gave him for this job and, for better or for worse, it's gonna have to do.

But the blindfold comes only because the arrows are supposed to guide themselves. True, he can - and sometimes does - throw them in a specific direction, but most times the little devils have a mind of their own. He has to admit they've never made a mistake.

Until now.

They've decided to turn against their master, turn him into the newest joke at Oympus. Oh, he can hear his mother laughing already. She will never let him live this one down. Never. And 'never' is an awfully long time between immortals.

He tries to defend himself against the mocking gossip, says that the arrow sent in Ares' way must have had its reasons. His arrows have never been wrong before.

Instead she had gone quietly, not a warrior to witness her fall. And he, who had always planned to be there and reclaim her from Hades’ grasp, was too late. So very late.

He could only take her body, carry it to a safe place. Mourn for her as only mortals should have to.

And then like an immortal was bound to do.

Aphrodite laughed and said it wasn't the same.

She was right, it wasn't. Once in the field it didn't matter what had caused the fray, everything was about the next moment, the brushes of mortality Ares felt when he fought alongside his followers. It was a heady feeling, a thirst which was never really quelled.

Diana always offered him a place in her ceremonial hunts; she often made the offer when he was particularly tense. The moon goddess told him how the thrill of the persecution would alleviate his bloodlust and often bristled away when Ares declined as politely as he could.

Because Diana didn't understand that it wasn't the same.

His battles were not about following a clueless prey, whose only instinct was to flee. His power fed on the energy of human against human, the strong beliefs ending and beginning in a handle of a sword. Those strengthened him. That unshakeable devotion to their own causes. That which caused them to offer their lives and let their blood run free.

That contradictory mix of life and death in each drop, and how the strength of it went from a man, to the earth, to him.

He had always seen those colours as she wove. The few times her mother convinced her to leave her brothers to their games, it was because she could play with those colours at her wish. Impractical task, that one. But it was demanded from her because of what she was.

Her work was sloppy, her mind barely concentrated on it. He always saw how her eyes went unwillingly to the games played outside, her ears perking at the sound of wooden swords clanging together.

How could they truly expect her to be like the other womenfolk? Couldn't they see how much more she had to offer the world?

Some days Ares wished he had properly taught her who was the master of this game. She run free, and as much as he liked the sight, the thought that Xena truly believed she had overpowered him galled him. She may beat his acolytes, see through his traps, but in the end, did he not spare her from the quick death she could have at his hands? He wished to see her on her knees, learning the lessons she'd avoided for too long.

Sometimes Ares wished he could turn back time and change dramatically his approach to her. Other times he wished he could see into the mists of the future and finally know if she'd ever be with him.

"Come on, bro." He patted Apollo's shoulder familiarly and laughed when the slimmer god winced. "Tell me my future," he asked before taking another swing from the magnificent wine.

Apollo looked at the drunken god, knowing that he was just being needled about his power. Ares had never really stopped teasing him for having such 'womanly' powers such as music and foretelling. Shrugging, he decided that seeing his half-brother's future couldn't hurt and, if he was lucky, it could even teach Ares a lesson or two.

He closed his eyes and concentrated.

Seconds later he gasped in surprise. "Something comes your way." Apollo stared at the other god in amazement. "It will bring big changes."

Ares looked at him expectantly but nothing else was said. "That's it?" he asked in disappointment.

Apollo nodded, still somewhat shocked by his vision.

Ares's eyes rolled. Big deal. He was the God of War, of course generals and warriors were always coming his way with intentions of changing history. So much for a prophecy!

Apollo shook his head and didn't try to correct him. Ares would have to see it for himself.

He doesn't understand her, what has changed? He can still remember how different the last time had been.

Ares had watched her then, too, knowing that he should choose another favourite as her belly grew and her abilities decreased along. But he hadn't been able to, too mesmerised by the changes in her body. Ares has never understood the fuss around human babies, but back then he'd glimpsed the reason for Zeus' forays, why his father cared so much for those weakling half-brothers he always left behind him. He had often wondered what kind of warrior would Xena's child make if he'd taken it under his wing. His disgust had been evident when she gave it to the Centaurs.

He would have taken better care of the boy, he knows it. He, who had been in --- good graces would have been able to hide him better and deeper than Xena ever thought of.

Now, Athenea's words forgotten and prophecies completely ignored, Ares swears it will be different this time.

*

Everything with Solan had gone wrong; so horribly wrong.

She had never wanted him in her body, hindering her every movement. She hadn't been prepared to have him in her life, even she understood that it was no place for a child. She gave him up and never ever looked back.

When she finally did, her little baby was on his way to become a man.

Oh, how she wanted him then, how much room had she made for him to occupy.

Too late.

It was too late.

Now Xena holds Eve tight, like the miracle her baby is. Eve is her second chance: she is future, happiness and hope.

A quick movement of his hand, a simple worded wish from his lips.

It would be over.

Xena thinks she has the upper hand because she's capable. Half truth, half not. She is the best but he's a God. Sometimes Ares wants to throw it in her face, show her how utterly helpless she is under his true power. But then he chuckles and lets her have her pride. It makes her eyes shine beautifully whenever she comes against him.

Now he is where he knows he cannot be sensed, all these years around her have taught him that her inner sense can only help her so much. He isn't afraid to be seen, can have his righteous fill of the warrior who should belong to him. The warrior he'd once staked so much for. He shakes his head in remembrance. He should have never chosen her.

But what's done is done.

He can't order his own fingers to destroy her, cannot form the words which would take her out of his way.

He can't even choose another over her.

Because he made a pledge to her, and it doesn't matter if she isn't the priestess he once groomed for himself. His word must be kept.