Chapter 112 - 111:The Reason.

Chapter 112: Chapter 111:The Reason.

By the time they approach the festivities it seems as though everyone is already in suitably high spirits.

The corridors all around echo with sounds of laughter and music and all things terribly joyous and inane, and Gurdet has to take a moment outside the enormous oak doors to prepare himself for the evening ahead.

This was his idea after all, but he always forgets how outrageously dull parties can be. Especially if Xena’s there to stop him from getting as mind-numbingly drunk as everyone else attending.

"Look father, didn’t I tell you we were going to be late?" she sighs, clearly disappointed. He’s not exactly sure why; it’s not like the feasting can begin without them.

"I’m the king, Xena," Gurdet patiently reminds his daughter, smoothing down his tunic and making sure his crown is sitting balanced, "I’ll keep them waiting as long as I like."

"Sometimes I wonder why mother married you," Xena sighs, and immediately gasps when she realises that she’s still got Khobi on her arm. How terribly improper of her; she’s usually so good at keeping her opinions of him to herself until they’re alone.

"Khobi, I’m sorry you had to hear that."

"I’m sure he deserved it," Khobi shrugs, and Gurdet raises an eyebrow at the brazen impudence. Xena looks inclined to giggle again though, so he lets Bongo suffer on his behalf.

"Khobi," his captain coughs, with a degree of pain to his voice, "If you could refrain from so openly insulting His Majesty, that would be greatly appreciated."

Khobi must regard Bongo quite highly indeed, because while he makes no promises, he doesn’t complain. How generous of him.

"You go on ahead, sweet daughter," he decides, shooing her inwards with a hand and gesturing for Vogrid to take her arm in Khobi’s place.

"A word, Khobi, if you wouldn’t mind?" Predictably, Xena looks alarmed, but he sighs and solemnly swears, "Don’t worry, we’ll be right behind you."

She’s clearly not reassured in the least, but goes all the same; shooting him a look of warning as she departs. She shouldn’t worry so much.

He’s been good to the boy so far, has he not? Relatively speaking, of course. It’s been far too long; what point would there be in hurting him now?

He has the unpleasant suspicion that Bongo might even refuse, if he asked him too.

Not that he would, but it’s always good to be aware of what a man will, and won’t do for his king.

The doors open, and his daughter graciously swoops inside with Vogrid at her side, and once they close again, Khobi is left standing alone in the hall with but the king, and his most loyal captain.

He’s fairly certain he can trust Bongo, but that doesn’t mean he likes this situation at all. But instead of addressing him immediately, the king just sighs with relief, and rubs absent-mindedly at his ear, like it’s giving him some trouble.

"...She talks an awful lot sometimes, doesn’t she?" he comments offhandedly, glancing after his daughter with a longsuffering expression.

It’s not exactly what Khobi thought he was going to say.

"Uh...?" he begins hesitantly, "...What?"

"Sometimes I forget how chatty she is," Gurdet continues, shaking his head, "A trait she certainly didn’t get from me, as you can probably imagine."

Flummoxed by what’s going on, Khobi sends Bongo a confused glance, only to find the captain looking similarly perplexed. But probably for a different reason.

This is why Khobi doesn’t like kings. He’s not sure if he’s being played with right now, but he doesn’t like it.

"Did you want something from me?" he growls abrasively, folding his arms across his chest, petulant.

"~Ah, always so impatient," the king tuts, almost approvingly, "My, you are going to be quite the handful for my nephew, aren’t you?"

Khobi ignores that. No one owns him, and no one ever will. Not Silas. Not this king.

Never Loac.

But he doesn’t say that.

He doesn’t think he has to, because Gurdet is smiling like he can read his mind.

"...What do you think lies beyond that door?" he says instead, thankfully cutting most of the bullshit and redirecting his line of questioning.

Equally bizarre, but this one feels a little less dangerous to answer, so Khobi does, as best he can.

"A feast?" he guesses, and gets an eye roll in return.

"How astute," he remarks dryly, "Not just a pretty face, clearly.

Yes, a feast. A feast full of my friends and my enemies, to be exact. All very rich and very powerful in their own right."

"That’s my problem why?" Khobi inquires flatly, and Gurdet’s smile widens sickly sweet.

"Because some of them are your enemies too."

"What?" he frowns, confused. He’s plenty sure there are men out there that are loyal to Silas, but as for the rest of them --most of them are from kingdoms he’s never even heard of before, let alone made an enemy of. "What did I do?"

"Stole my nephew, obviously," Gurdet replies with a shrug, "For all the engagements that haven’t worked out, a match with him was still highly coveted.

He doesn’t come with a crown, but he’s still a prince, and one of a royal lineage worth marrying into, no less. And I should know. That’s what I did, after all."

Khobi gawks at him in disbelief. That’s insane. It’s not like he asked for this.

And now he has enemies from parts of the world he’s never been, or heard of, because of it? If there were so many rich, powerful people stupid enough to want someone like Loac, why didn’t Gurdet just let them have him?

"...So why me?" he finds himself asking, in a voice that sounds a little too hollow to be his own, and he’s not to know it, but when he locks gazes with the king, his gaze is earnest, and confused.

The smile breaks from Gurdet’s face like a glass shattering upon stone.

It’s honestly, truly terrifying, and the malice that sparks in the king’s eyes like a living thing sends a shudder of something Khobi thinks might actually be fear skittering down his spine. And when he speaks, it’s with ice that burns.

"...Of all of them, Silas is the one I am least fond of."

The words fall like a thick frost, but Khobi shakes it off his skin and squares up to him with a scowl heavy enough and fiery enough to chase away the shadows that have suddenly risen up around them.

"...So you’re saying I have to marry your dick of a nephew because you don’t like Silas?" he grits out flatly, and quite abruptly, the king’s menacing aura vanishes as quickly as it had boiled over.

It leaves him looking vaguely amused. The sudden change is unsettling, to say the least.

"No," he corrects, condescending, "You have to marry my dick of a nephew --as you’ve so eloquently put it, because there was going to be an alliance by marriage, or there was going to be war.

As you can probably imagine, what Silas really wanted was my sweet, innocent daughter." He adjusts the ornamental brooch at his throat and glances briefly in the direction the princess had departed, as if to check whether or not she’s there. After a moment, he adds, with eyes and lips narrowed right down to slits, "...But I’m sure you can understand full well why I couldn’t allow that."

Khobi does. Silas Luminus didn’t have a very good track record with women. Or anything, really, that wasn’t destruction.

He can understand a father not wanting to subject his daughter to that.

He didn’t really think Gurdet cared about his daughter like that.

Maybe he was wrong.

"Loac was his consolation prize. And that’s where you come in," Gurdet chimes, and elaborates conspiratorially, as if it wasn’t common knowledge already, "He’s a bit of a sore loser, that man."

It’s concerning that he says it as though it’s a real shame.

"...He doesn’t want an alliance with you," Khobi tells him flatly, "I don’t care what he says. He’s lying." Silas Luminus doesn’t make friends.

And anyone who’s stupid enough to believe otherwise probably deserves what’s coming to them.

"Oh, I’m well aware," the king assures him with a patient smile, "He wants to destroy me just like he destroyed your uncle. He’s just trying to figure out how." Khobi could be imagining it, and he hopes he is, but it almost seems like Gurdet’s looking forward to seeing what he’ll try.

"But don’t you worry," he adds, and there’s a gleam in his beady eyes that Khobi finds extremely unsettling, "I can handle Silas Luminus.But in the meantime, I would appreciate it if you avoided making trouble for me and my kingdom. Do you think you can do that?"

Honestly, Khobi reckons he’s been pretty well behaved, considering. But he doesn’t trust Gurdet at all, so it’s probably only fair that he doesn’t trust him either.

"I won’t start shit, if that’s what you’re asking," he huffs, rolling his eyes theatrically.

"It is," Gurdet assures him, "Forgive me, Khobi, but you have a history of starting shit.

And I’m sure there are a lot of people at this feast that are hoping that you will." He drops a hand onto Khobi’s shoulder as Bongo guides them towards the door, and the smile he spares him is playful, and chilling.

"So try not to ruin this one?"