Chapter 45: The Offer.

Chapter 45: Chapter 45: The Offer.

If the room hadn’t already been silent, his comment would have rendered them completely speechless. None more so than Khobi.

"What," he whispered after a long moment of silence, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Even Xena paused with her fork partway to her mouth in shock. But Gurdet wasn’t obliging enough to repeat himself, and simply smiles, as if to say you heard me .

And, for the first time, Khobi’s expression really changes.

There’s torment in his eyes –part of him knew with all his heart that kings lie as easy as breathing, and shouldn’t to be trusted, but hope is a fire that burns hot and enduring when it’s lit, and in the end it’s that hope that wins out.

"You can find him?" he breathed, fists clenched tight upon the table.

Gurdet smirked.

"I can."

Xena can’t believe what she’s hearing.

"Father," she whispered, eyes wide, unsure whether her father knows what exactly he’s offering --what he’s offering to do. "...What are you saying?"

He’s smiling. It makes the room seem darker, and colder.

"Our guest wants his uncle," he says simply, but there’s a mocking lilt to it, the voice of a man who has another right where he wants him. "And I have the resources to make that happen."

She stares,stunned into silence, and the whole room stares with her.

What he’s promising, it’s everything Khobi could ever want.

And he knows it.

They both know it.

And suddenly, too late, Xena understands the game her father had been playing. She’s not the only one, the light behind Khobi’s eyes is gone in an instant, the hope that had burned so bright and innocent hardening into something cold and ugly.

He sees it too, now, and the tightness in his jaw tells of the ways he’s cursing himself for his weakness, because he’s seen how kings lie. He should have known, should have remembered, that the favors of a king, are not without their price.

The cold silence lingered -the breathless, lifeless kind of silence, one of disbelief, and outrage --until finally, it seemed Vogrid could hold his tongue no longer.

"Your Majesty -" he protested, his sharp voice shattering the spell their king had cast upon the room, and although that was all his king permitted him to utter, with just those words he managed to make his disapproval quite clear.

" -Bongo is too good a captain to waste babysitting," Gurdet interrupted, just as sharply, and with eyes that flashed a dangerous shade of grey.

"I’d hate for him to have to keep doing so. Which, without our dear guest’s cooperation, he would," he elaborated simply, tea rising to his lips with a roll of his eyes. "...Montrel seems to have his hands full keeping track of even one wayward prince. I imagine he’d have a rather impossible time with two."

Vogrid was obviously not placated by his words, but remained silent. There were times when Gurder would suffer his council, and his sharp words, but he had made it abundantly clear that this was not one of them.

This was a deal, and one he intended to see through. Khobi knew the terms, and they were good ones.

Make things easy for me , was the request. And I’ll make things easy for you .

And his daughter knew, that it was a deal that Khobi would take. He’d resent it, and the man who’d offered it to him, forever, but he’d take it. Sometimes, even the best of men will sell their soul for the right price, and Gurdet Hector was in the business of knowing that price.

Men like her father preyed on men like Khobi Frost, those who have lost everything and would give the world for even a chance that they could win it all back.

"Think it over," Gurdet advised casually -almost as if to no one in particular -as he set about filling his plate. He was the only one to do so, Xena had ceased even making a show of picking at her food, appetite evaporated.

And Khobi, fuming in silence with hands clenched in his lap to hide the shaking whites of his knuckles, chose not to eat another bite.

"I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."

...

Everyone looked so tense. Uncomfortable, even, a few of them.

Gurdet couldn’t, for the life of them, fathom why. It was a beautiful morning, the food was particularly excellent, and he had just made the most hated man in his castle a peace offering that he simply could not refuse.

Because Gurdet had not bested as many men as he had by being blind. There was something fiercely pitiful that had sparked in Khobi’s eyes at the mention of Khnoji ,It looked a lot like loyalty.

And for all Khobi’s protesting and all his complaints, and all his denial and fight, this was the one thing he’d not yet refused.

He was stewing.

Let him stew. There was food to be had, and wine to be drank, since the tea was gone and he’d earned himself a glass, and every minute that passed at his table was a minute he escaped Vogrid’s inevitable outrage.

Interestingly, Bongo did not seem to share his attendant’s disapproval. Quite the opposite, in fact. Rather apt really, considering his men had been the ones to prove that Khobi Frost could, despite popular belief, be reasoned with.

The silence wore on, and still he said nothing. And it was in the midst of the sombre silence that the solid oak doors, at whose side Bongo had been so diligently standing vigil, abruptly swung open.

Its hinges creaked as it moved, and beyond it, the heavy thud of an uneven gait beat out of time against stone, carrying a familiar face -stormier than usual -into their midst.

In short, Montrel did not look like he’d had a good morning.

"Good morning," Gurdet remarked regardless, unsmiling. "You’re late."

Montrel, dirty and unkempt, plastered with feathers, and missing his left boot, shot his captain a heated glare, and at the unspoken advice from Bongo, took a deep breath and counted to three before answering.

"Apologies, Your Majesty," he replied dutifully, but noticeably more strained than was proper. Bongo could chew him out for his manners later, when his lip had stopped bleeding and he wasn’t quite so covered in dirt. "It’s been a rough morning."

Somehow, it felt like the understatement of the century.

"I can see that," Gurdet mused dryly, "...What, the local whores managed to get the better of you?"

" -Dogs," he corrected with a thick grimace, wiping his oozing lip with the cuff of his sleeve. "They had dogs. Big ones."

"Sounds like a delightful establishment."

"He seemed to be enjoying himself." The distaste in Montrel’s voice was poorly disguised.

"I take it you found him, then?" Gurdet inquired. He was finding that as the years wore on this same conversation between himself and his guards had grown quire tiresome.

"Eventually, yeah."

"Did you bring him?" he prompted, because all-too often Montrel had been sent a-hunting, only to return to him empty-handed with news that he’d found his quarry but had been unable to actually retrieve him.

But before Montrel had the chance to reply, one came for him, a deep, powerful drawl that ambled in with an easy authority and echoed through the vast hall like the dominant rumble of thunder. In their seats, Khobi and Xena stiffened, for undoubtedly wildly different reasons.

"Hey, Gurdet," came the slow thrum, irritated. Bored. "What’s all this about?" And lo and behold, there was his nephew, dressed, if not properly, yet still somehow looking a sight better than Montrel.

"--Loac??" Xena exclaimed in surprise, turning to her father for explanation. She got none, and Khobi’s greeting was decidedly less pleasant.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" he exploded, chair grinding across stone angry and indignant as he leapt to his feet as soon as he realised who had just joined them.

Both Bongo and Vogrid flinched, more at the cursing than the display of aggression, but for the most part his outburst went ignored.

It was rather unfortunate, Gurdet sighed inwardly for the umpteenth time, how easy Loac was to hate.

Not that it mattered."Ahh, my dear nephew," he remarked, the smile he painted on for the benefit of his audience quite unnecessary. "I’m so pleased you’ve managed to drag yourself out of whatever hovel you’ve been hiding in."

Loax’s expression remained impassive. It wasn’t any unkindness he hadn’t heard before. "I hear you’ve caused Montrel some trouble.

"There was nothing in his nephew’s face, it was well known that there was no love lost between himself and the guard who dogged his footsteps, yet such news gave him no joy.

But there was no remorse either. Loac just gazed back at him with blank, dull eyes, and shrugged.

"I wasn’t the one who put the dogs on him," was all he had to say for himself, and, either ignoring or oblivious to the place laid out for him at the table, began helping himself to whatever had as yet gone uneaten.

Much of it was cold now, but it didn’t seem to bother him."...Won’t...won’t you sit with us, Loac?" Xena tried, but he didn’t so much as look up as he picked at bread and meats and stacked his plate high with his fingers.

Instead, chewing on a grape, he jerked his head across the table to where Khobi stood, stiff and fuming like a dog backed into a corner, and asked Gurdet, "What’s with him? Thought you had him locked up."

"I did," he replied casually, "In your old room, in fact."In the midst of his scavenging, Loac paused. Only for a moment, mind, and he didn’t even seem to realise he had, so fleeting that only the sharpest of eyes would have caught it. So of course, Gurdet saw it, and smiled.

"He doesn’t like it," he offered, making conversation."...Big surprise.""Sit down, why don’t you?" he continued, ignoring his nephew’s deliberate belligerence as he’d been doing for many years now.

"...Both of you," he added meaningfully, sending Khobi a sidelong glance. One that Khobi did not take kindly to."Not until I know what the fuck -" Vogrid took in a sharp breath, and Bongo let out a resigned sigh as Khobi jabbed a finger at the man grazing across the table from him, "- He’s doing here."

Gurdet sighed."He is here, because I invited him," he explained painstakingly.

"Aren’t you at all interested in the man you’re going to marry?"Whether he was speaking to Loac or Khobi, it didn’t matter; the answer was a resounding no .(Khobi’s answer was far less polite, and Gurdet had to give the man some credit, he hadn’t seen Vogrid bent so out of shape in quite some time.).

"Give it up, Gurdet," Aomine snorted flatly, the voice of a child used to hearing empty threats, "It’s never gonna happen.", "Oh?" Gurdet remarked, feigning innocence, "What makes you say that?""It never does," he explained, because it was that simple, and Gurdet grimaced at the unfortunate truth of it.

"...And whose fault is that?"Loac shrugged, and kept eating."Father, this was obviously a mistake," Xena whispered to her father. She was clearly distressed -and nervous, from the way she was glancing from Khobi to her cousin, and back again.

That really wouldn’t do. Princesses -especially those who would be queen someday, should never be so obvious."Nonsense, Xena, I think this is going quite well."