Chapter 157 - 155: Eyes So Blue.

Chapter 157: Chapter 155: Eyes So Blue.

Gurdet isn’t sure he’s surprised to see Loac.

​For all his reminders to Xena about the wilfulness of her cousin, his general contempt for events like these, and his propensity for refusing to come when called, he’d harboured an odd feeling that tonight was going to be one of those nights where Loac, for reasons unknown, decided to prove him wrong.

Gurdet is glad that his daughter is having too much of a marvelous time on the dance floor to notice his presence; it wouldn’t do for her to get her hopes up.

​After all, it would be so like Loac to emerge just long enough to eat, drink, and find someone to share his bed for the night, before vanishing off into the night like he’d never been there.

​But none of that seems to be on his agenda tonight. There’s a drink in his hand, but it looks for the most part untouched, and instead of hooking food off servants he’s lingering just short of the royal dais; surrounded by the milling crowd yet somehow not a part of it.

It doesn’t seem to bother him though --the way they give him a wide berth --and he doesn’t appear to have any interest in joining them; content just to watch.

​...Or perhaps not, Gurdet thinks curiously.

​Because when he looks just a little closer; beyond his nice clothes --a deep blue, rather than the colours of his kingdom, trimmed with black and silver --he finds deep, dark bags under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept.

And while the casual observer might buy the apathy in his posture, and might not see the tension hidden in his face, behind the scores that match the ones he left on Khobi, Gurdet has made a life out of looking for lies, and is not fooled.

​Loac might have him believe otherwise, but he knows --the way a good uncle knows --that his dear nephew, bless him, is restless .

​And what kind of uncle would he be if he didn’t investigate?

​He doesn’t bother greeting Loac as he makes his approach and Loac doesn’t acknowledge him, which is completely fine with the both of them.

It’s nice to know that in a time where things seem to be developing a tendency to deviate from the norm, some things never change.

​And for a lovely moment, neither of them say anything --they’ve both always seemed to prefer it that way --Gurdet playfully bobbing his head in time with the music while his nephew continues to ignore him, staring straight ahead.

No one else tries to approach them. It’s rather nice, actually, the way Loac’s presence keeps them all at arm’s length; like they’re sitting in a little pocket of space all their own.

He’d almost call it peaceful, but for the ominous clouds darkening his nephew’s expression.

​A shame.

​"...Your cousin would love a dance," he remarks conversationally, breaking their tentative silence, because from here they get a wonderful view of the dancefloor, and under the shifting, shimmering lights, it’s not hard to spot his daughter weaving between partners with her eyes sparkling.

She looks like she’s enjoying herself, and for real, for once.

​It’s only the truth, but Loac brushes him off with a scoff, like he’s said something ridiculous.

​"...I didn’t come to dance," he states, voice flat, and eyes hooded. He’s watching the dancefloor, too, and Gurdet wonders what it is he’s seeing. Or is hoping to see.

​(Or who.)

​"Of course," Gurdet replies easily, like he’s a fool for suggesting otherwise, and the offhanded question he follows up with is entirely loaded. "...Then why did you come?"

​The question makes Loac scowl, almost petulantly, but he doesn’t offer an answer, and Gurdet wonders if that’s in part because he doesn’t know, either.

...

Khobi is fully aware that he’s being watched, and just who by.

Let him watch, he figures, as the princess latches onto his arm again and points out her uncle and cousin to him like he hadn’t already spotted them; he’s already proven to everyone here that he’s perfectly capable of taking him on and taking him down.

And even though he’s unarmed and aching right down to his bones, if Loac wants to start shit here, then he’s welcome to try.

​It’ll be the same result though; Khobi will make sure of that.

​It’s kind of crazy, but even though he’s exhausted, and his body couldn’t be less prepared for a fight, the thought of getting to go toe to toe with Loac again gets his pulse racing.

​It shouldn’t, because he’s fought hundreds of men hundreds of times before, yet inexplicably, it does. Like Loac is different.

​(He is. He knows he is. Even if only fleetingly, Loac had shown him that much. And he wants to see more.)

​Maybe that’s why his gaze wanders, and whereabouts it’s drawn.

​The eyes he locks with are piercing, and startlingly blue.

​(And eerily captivating.)

​" --Thank you for the dance, Khobi," the princess trills in delight as they evacuate the dancefloor before the next song strikes up, and Khobi abruptly jerks his eyes away like he’s been caught doing something wrong.

It even takes a full few seconds to even register what she’s just said, "Wasn’t that fun?"

​Another few seconds pass, during which he remembers the dance.

​He’s not sure fun is strictly the right term, but that might just be because he usually has an entirely different definition of the word.

It fit for the princess, for sure; she’d been a picture of grace, confident in her every movement and accustomed to the music, and even though he’d had absolutely no idea what he was doing, she had smiled the whole time she’d been in his arms, like she didn’t care.

​But while all the movements had felt strange to Khobi, and his body hadn’t quite been able to mimic the smooth patterns of the other dancers made seamless by a lifetime of practice, the changing, back and forth flow of two people was something he understood, and there had been something oddly familiar about the whole experience; something about learning steps by mirroring another, and following their shape and in their footsteps, that had made him think of his uncle, and a small boy trying to learn a soldier’s rhythm.