Chapter 369: Passing Of Love.

Chapter 369: Chapter 369: Passing Of Love.

He’d never been the kind of prince they’d expected --too much of a troublemaker, too unpredictable, and wholly unconcerned with his status as a prince --but some things could be forgiven or overlooked because he was just a child, and children didn’t know much of the world and could thus be forgiven for some things.

But the older and more stubborn he got, the less sway the castle rules held over him, and the less they forgave.

​Eventually, the only thing he really cared about was his training, but too recklessly talented for his years, he’d outstripped anyone who had ever stood against him, and when even the best of the kingdom’s soldiers stopped being a challenge for him and stopped challenging him, he got bored.

And when he got bored, he got cold, and the gap between them only got wider, and wider, and she could only watch as the light in his eyes that she had so loved, turned to stone.

​Xena tells Khobi bits and pieces of this. Just enough for him to understand, because some of it isn’t for her to tell. He doesn’t say much, and it occurs to her that so much of this she’s never said aloud.

He doesn’t ask but she talks anyway; the words just kind of spilling out of her in a way she’s never let them before.

She knows that they get along much better than they once did, but she wants him to understand who her cousin once was, so that he can understand just how much it means to her to see him now.

​"I don’t think I ever thanked you, Khobi," she eventually admits to him, a small smile crossing her face as she studies his furrowed expression.

For some reason her words make it deepen dramatically, "...For bringing back Loac’s smile."

​Oh , now he looks so embarrassed .

​It’s kind of sweet. It’s a funny word to attribute to someone with as scary of a reputation as Khobi Frost, but Xena has started to glean what parts of him are who he is , and which were what he had to be , and that he isn’t nearly as grumpy as he appears.

​(Loac isn’t the only one who smiles more than he scowls these days.)

​"So thank you ."

​She means it from the bottom of her heart.

​"I...don’t think I did anything like that..." Khobi says self consciously, rubbing the back of his neck like he doesn’t know quite what to do with that.

And it’s as he does so that his hand disturbs the collar of his shirt, and in the instant before the fabric falls back into place Xena catches a glimpse of something staining his skin there that she’s never seen there before.

​At least, not on him.

​It’s a good thing that her mother and her father have always impressed on her the importance of maintaining her composure, no matter what she might hear and no matter what she might see.

And as much as her father would like to believe, Xena’s not entirely naive. She reads.

She hears things. The castle talks. Ladies talk.

(They pretend they don’t, but they do.)

So she knows what those marks are, and how they get there, and what they usually mean.

After all, her cousin’s been wearing marks just like them since he was old enough to know where to get them.

​But Khobi ?

​She manages to keep her expression even. The coloration of her cheeks, however, she has very little composure over, but she doesn’t think Khobi notices.

​That meant...?

​But who...?

​The colouring looks very fresh.

​"...Why’d they stop challenging him?" Khobi asks suddenly, jolting Xena out of her thoughts.

​"They couldn’t beat him," she replies simply, a little caught off guard –not just by the question, but by how confused he looks, and then by the face he makes when she adds, "He was too strong."

​"That’s a dumb reason," he states bluntly, shaking his head like he truly, genuinely doesn’t understand, "Why would that stop them? It’s better when you can’t win."

Xena laughs, and feels a little bad for it when Khobi baulks; clearly not thinking he’s said anything particularly funny. But she can’t help it; she’s just so happy .

​Khobi’s his favourite . That was what Montrel said, wasn’t it?

​She understands what he meant, now.

​Ah .

​Loac’s probably beside himself with joy.

...

It’s when the tea has finally grown too cold to enjoy that Xena decides to take her leave.

​"Thank you for your hospitality," she tells him, and the servants who have been dutifully lurking around the edge of her periphery take that as their cue to step forwards and begin clearing the table.

The remaining sweet treats they leave.

​"Any time," Khobi states dryly, helping himself to one and shoving the whole thing in his mouth in one bite, "I’ll be here."

At least, she thinks that’s what he says; it’s hard to tell with his mouth full. Contextually it fits. "You’re not gonna have any more?" he adds, gesturing at the plate. He’s eaten most of them, as was her intention.

​"You go ahead," she assures him, and he promptly takes another two, "Would you like some more sent up?"

​Cheeks stuffed, he nods, pointing to his mouth and adding something that she can only assume is supposed to be, "What are these?"

​"Custard puddings," she replies, and he hums thoughtfully as he swallows.

​"They’re good," he admits, licking his lips, and she promises to have the kitchens send along a fresh plate with dinner. They’re Loac’s favourite too, after all.

​For some curious reason, that information makes Khobi look oddly pensive.

​The next one he eats slower, and as he leans forwards Xena catches one last fleeting glimpse of the love marks adorning the skin below his collar and once again she finds herself wondering about them, and their origin.

If she were anything other than a princess she’d be called nosy , but as it is, she is a princess, and is therefore allowed to want to know the things that go on in her castle.

Or so her father and mother so constantly assured her.

​They both loved knowing more than anyone else. Especially each other. A trait they had both passed on to their daughter.

So even once the door has closed behind her and she is reunited with her handmaidens in the hallway, Xena finds herself lingering at the door, wondering if the guards would know, and how best to ask if they do.

It’s so unladylike to fidget; her father would be most unimpressed with her if he saw. Mama too, probably.

​"Can we help you, Your Highness?" one of the guards inquires pleasantly, clearly seeing her hover. Mural, she thinks.

​"Ah," she hums lightly, taking a little longer to gather up her skirts so it doesn’t seem like she’s deliberately hanging back, "Khobi seems in such a good mood; I was just wondering he’s been spending time with."

​"Oh, just the guards," Mural replies dutifully, looking across to his partner as if he has anything else to add. He doesn’t seem to find anything strange about her question, "Rogard, too."

​"Montrel did say that you were teaching him some card games during the days," she says airily.

​"And dice," the other interjects, and shakes his head, "He’s not very good at cards."

​That’s not very helpful. From the way Montrel tells it, the guards typically both join in with whatever game they’re playing, and last she heard , Rogard was quite spoken for.

​"No one else?" she inquires, and the guards look genuinely puzzled, like they’re not quite sure what kind of answer she’s looking for.

​"Well, the servants come and go but they don’t usually stay long," the other guard adds – ah, Mural, that’s his name –and then bobs his head in affirmative when she hazards a guess that that’s usually around mealtimes.

​"Not during the night?" she queries, and from the way the two of them suddenly exchange a look, knows that they knows something.

This time their answer comes a lot slower, and the tone is different. More careful.

​And not quite the one she was expecting.

​"No, Your Highness," Mural finally replies.

​"Oh," she says, brow furrowing. And then her eyes widen, because if this pesky little mystery didn’t have a guard or a servant at its heart, and no one else came and went, then that leaves only one possible culprit, doesn’t it?

​" Oh ."