Chapter 443 - 444: Crade Is Not Briyagi.

Chapter 443: Chapter 444: Crade Is Not Briyagi.

​"...Let’s worry about that later, shall we?" Gurdet muses dismissively, "For now, how about we put aside all such unpleasantries and we pretend for a while that you’re my cherished guests.

I’m sure it’s been a long and difficult road; you must both be hungry." He gestures to the empty seats laid out at the table, neatly set like he’d been been expecting company this whole time.

"I promised my daughter here a family dinner, after all, and I would so hate to disappoint her." As if her father’s words have roused her, the princess finally finds her voice.

​"Ah, yes, Mozry, Khojin Frost; please," she greets with a smile, rising to her feet and discreetly tucking aside the handkerchief she’d been using to dab at her eyes.

Because she’s a Crown Princess, and Crown Princesses remember their manners. "Join us, won’t you?"

​Neither Mozry nor Khojin Frost do any such thing.

​"I’m sure you can understand why we wouldn’t want to do that," Mozry replies sternly, and while Xena certainly looks crestfallen, she makes no complaint.

Because she most certainly understands. Her father has plainly proclaimed them his prisoners and openly allied himself with a man who has spent countless years chasing them across the wilderness.

It’s hardly any wonder that they’re suspicious of them; of course they wouldn’t want to eat at his table. But then Khojin Frost lets out a low breath and squeezes his wife against his side.

​"...Ah~ It does look good, Mozry," he admits, immediately earning himself an incredulous look from Mozry.

​"Khojin Frost, have you been listening?" she reminds him bleakly, brow creasing like she’s suddenly not entirely convinced she didn’t marry an idiot.

And despite the tension in the air, it makes Khobi want to laugh, because even after all this time they’re still the same as he remembered.

Mozry lamented often and loudly that Khojin Frost didn’t have a serious bone in his body, even though she knew just as well as any of them that when it mattered he would.

But until such a time...well, she would continue to lament.

​"Well, you have to admit, a family dinner does sound nice~" Khojin Frost points out with a playful chuckle. And once upon a time Khobi might have missed the sharp little glint in his eye, but he’s older now, and for all the things that have stayed the same, some things have changed. "What do you say, Khobi?"

​It’s not a question that Khobi has to think of for very long. He’d been eating at this very table only moments before, after all. And f or all that’s transpired since he set foot here, Gurdet’s never harmed him or commanded he be harmed; never seemed to harbour any real malice towards him.

And he could’ve. Should’ve, probably. He could’ve had him chained, or whipped, or left to rot away in a cold, damp cell. Countless times, in fact.

So many times that Khobi’s actually a little surprised that he hasn’t; if this was Briyagi he never would’ve gotten away with half the shit he has. At least not unscathed.

​Crade is not Briyagi.

​And Gurdet Horang is not Silas.

​"...It’s fine," Khobi assures them with a quick nod. "I think you can..." He pauses, and then tries again, with more certainty this time.

Gurdet is the kind of man who from their very first meeting had felt distrustworthy, but he found his uncle just like he promised, and veiled threats and theatrics aside, had even brought him here safely.

To him. "You can trust him."

​Well now , Gurdet can’t help but think, his ears catching this brief exchange. High praise from Khobi Frost. Who would have ever thought. How terribly, wonderfully flattering.

​(It’s horrifying to find that he’s not even being dramatic. The uncharacteristic –and unexpected –vote of confidence has left him rather touched.)

​"... Khojin Frost ," Mozry sighs with a shake of her head, but resigns herself to dropping in beside her husband as Khojin Frost makes to follow Khobi up towards the dais and the feast awaiting them.

​"What?" Khojin Frost inquires airily, "If Khobi says it’s fine, then I believe him."

​"Wonderful," Gurdet decides, as the three of them slowly approach the table.

He’s quite proud to see that even after having been struck dumb his daughter has remembered her manners, although he’s going to pretend that he doesn’t see that Montrel has quite unabashedly taken her by the hand.

That’s not appropriate for a princess being courted and she knows it, but exceptional circumstances are exceptional circumstances.

And to show her that he has in fact, remembered his manners, he rises out of his chair as they approach so that he can properly introduce his family.

And Montrel, who apparently he’s already started to lump in with them. Khojin Frost and Mozry dip their heads to each of them in turn, although for obvious reasons Loac holds their attention for the longest.

Because of course they would know by now that their nephew had been promised to him. His agreement with Silas is no secret after all, and whenever Loac has a new betrothed word always spreads like wildfire.

​Surprisingly subdued, Khobi sinks back down into his seat, still processing the abrupt turn of events.

Next to him, Loac lightly knocks their elbows together, and when Khobi snaps to he finds him with his brow lightly creased, expression quizzical.

​You okay ? It seems to say.

​Khobi rubs his sleeve across his face again. His eyes feel sore and puffy, and he must look a right sight for Loac to be worrying about him, but he gives him a short, reassuring nod.

​Yeah .

​Loac just offers him a nod in return, and reverts his attention back to his plate. But after a couple of moments his hand slips beneath the edge of the table to give Khobi’s knee a light squeeze.

It’s not much but Khobi finds himself oddly grateful for how grounding it is; just enough to reassure him that this is something real, and after a beat he lets his hand drop to rest over the back of Loac’s, and squeezes back.

​It could be his imagination, but in this light it kind of looks like he’s blushing.

​Neither Khojin Frost nor Mozry say a word as they sink down into the vacant seats, and a heavy, uncomfortable silence descends upon them that no one seems willing to, or capable of breaking.

But Khojin Frost earned his name as the Iron Heart for holding what would not be held, and breaking what would not be broken, so he takes the tension in both hands and snaps it clean in two.