Chapter 244 - 242: Fall!

Chapter 244: Chapter 242: Fall!

She strikes up as brisk a pace as she dares, unable to completely conceal her excitement, and her handmaidens dutifully trot along behind her.

Winter is usually a time for intimate dinners and tea by the fireside but she had found it so hard to sit through breakfast this morning when all she wanted to do was be outside.

It’s quite unlike her. She knows her duty and she usually does it so very well.

If she can figure out how to make her arms less sore after each shot and she is able to come more often, she’ll have to be sure not to neglect any part of it.

​Maybe Montrel will know how to best help her arms recover.

She’ll have to ask him. He always answers all her questions, which is a refreshing change from being ignored or told that princesses shouldn’t trouble themselves with such things.

​She’s about halfway there when she crosses paths with a handful of soldiers, all of whom immediately dip into bows as soon as they realise who they’ve come upon, and one of whom just so happens to be the man she’s looking for.

He’s the only one who stops; the rest are burdened by all manner of paraphernalia and looking quite desperately like they’d like to to be rid of it.

​"Oh, Montrel, good afternoon! I was just on my way to the training grounds," Xena greets animatedly, and then realises somewhat belatedly that he’s not in his usual armour.

"But you...don’t look like you’ve been at the training grounds."

​"Ah, did you not hear?" Montrel comments apologetically, "We don’t have training today.

We’ve been down in the city." He nods ahead to his disappearing comrades, adding "Got some gear for the winter. And some new clothes for Khobi; he’s wrecked half the things he’s borrowed. Hopefully this might last him the rest of the winter."

​"Oh. That’s...a shame." Xena tries so hard not to sound too disappointed.

She had been so looking forward to it, too. It must show through though because Montrel is quick to add, " –There’ll be people down there though, if you wanted to practice."

​"Ah, it’s fine. Maybe another day then," Xena finds herself saying, although she’s not entirely sure why.

She wanted to practice, didn’t she? Isn’t that why she got all dressed up for it? But Montrel has been the one teaching her, so if he’s not there, then...

​"Ah, in that case I...actually..." Montrel cuts in, and starts patting down his pockets with urgency.

He even drops a curse and her handmaidens look scandalised.

Xena’s gotten oddly used to it though.

Khobi’s language hasn’t quite attuned to the delicate castle ears and he seems to bring it out in the rest of the soldiers, too.

Eventually he finds what he’s looking for in the form of a small bundle wrapped in cloth and holds it out to her, "Even if you’re not going that way...you might as well take this with you."

​"For me?" Xena queries, and one of her handmaidens edges past her to take the bundle from him.

She’s quite accustomed to being showered in gifts, usually flashy and outrageous and usually from very important men hoping to win her favour by showing off their wealth and expensive taste, but this is quite unexpected.

Not entirely appropriate, maybe, given their stations but it’s exceptionally bad manners to outright refuse a gift so she nods for her handmaiden to unfold the cloth.

​Within lies a plain brown leather shooting glove. It’s much smaller than the old one that she’s had to wear before, and it has a decorative silver clasp that’s in the shape of a bird.

​It’s the most beautiful thing Xena’s ever seen.

​Montrel completely misunderstands her utter lack of response.

​"I just...it wasn’t right you using those crappy old ones –" he explains, and doesn’t seem quite able to hold her gaze, "Ah, wait, you probably already have one...and if you don’t like it..."

​That’s not it at all!

​"No, no!" Xena interrupts with urgency, because she can’t have him thinking that she doesn’t like it; she just can’t . "I love it. Truly."

​Her words come out oddly breathless. And they seem to leave Montrel somewhat off kilter.

​"Oh, you do?" he says self consciously, scratching at a small, old scar on the side of his face.

Xena’s never noticed that before. "...I’m glad. And well...we don’t have training tomorrow but if it’s not raining I could...I mean...maybe you come down and could test it out then?"

​Xena desperately wants to say yes .

​"Oh no, I...wouldn’t want to take up your time," is what she says instead, because in a castle, that’s the polite thing to say.

Fortunately for her, Montrel doesn’t understand castle eccentricities in the slightest.

​"S’fine," he assures her, "It’s no trouble. My horse’ll probably be mad at me but she’ll get over it."

​Did he just say his horse would be mad at him ?

​Xena can’t help it; she giggles.

​"Tomorrow then?" he confirms, grinning down at her, and when she nods eagerly, her handmaiden’s words from earlier suddenly come rushing to the surface of her thoughts.

​I suppose Montrel is actually kind of handsome, isn’t he?

​Xena was telling the truth when she said that she hadn’t noticed.

Because she’d never really looked. Why would she have looked; they’ve known each other since they were young.

But come to think of it, now that she is looking at him...

​Well, he has a strong jawline but his nose isn’t straight and his smile is crooked, and it’s possibly the first time she’s ever seen him without bruises on his face.

He’s by no means classically handsome.

​And yet somehow, he is. Almost exceptionally so.

​She touches her cheeks and finds them warm, and her handmaidens exchange knowing glances.

​Oh .

​Could this be... ?

...

It’s always quite jarring to see the training grounds so empty at this time of day.

During daylight hours its a veritable hive of activity and it’s usually so packed that on days like today it seems almost sad.

There are the odd groups here and there, but without the threat of Drogger looming over them it seems more like a social gathering than training.

A few of the groups are even sharing warm mead between them as they pace out their steps or engage in a few friendly rounds of hand to hand.