Chapter 260 - 258: A Fatherly King.

Chapter 260: Chapter 258: A Fatherly King.

Come to think of it, there are quite a lot of things she likes about him, actually.

​"I uh, I’ll be off then," he tells her, and makes a rude, impatient gesture in the direction of the stables, where it appears as though a couple of other soldiers are making the same rude gesture at him.

For his sake, she pretends not to have seen. "I’ll see you back here in a couple of days, then?"

​"...I suppose so," Xena replies, unable to keep all of the disappointment from her voice.

​"Unless you...I dunno, want to come with?" Montrel nods casually towards the stables, and while Xena had perhaps been hoping to spend a little extra time with him, she’s a little caught off guard that he’s actually offering.

​"...To the stables?" she clarifies, and Montrel’s brain suddenly catches up with his mouth.

And misunderstands entirely.

​"Ah, right," he fumbles, suddenly seeming unsure what to do with his hands. He settles on shoving one of them into his pocket and the other into his hair. "...Forget it, you’ve probably got other stuff to do, and it’s pretty dirty –"

​"I’m sure it’s fine," she assures him, because it’s not like she’s never been in a stable before. "I like horses."

Maybe she hasn’t set foot in such a place for in a while, on account of the grooms doing of the legwork when it comes to taking care of her own horse, but she’s always liked horses. And at least she’s wearing her boots.

​"You do?" Montrel remarks, sounding surprised. And pleased. "Ah, that’s cool."

​Xena’s sure she hears one of her handmaidens sigh.

​The grooms and servants scurrying about the stables seem quite alarmed when she draws up, but she just smiles and daintily picks her way through the straw, following in Montrel’s steps.

Her handmaidens decide to wait at the entrance, but when she looks back she can see them both peering in after her.

It’s hardly proper for a lady such as herself to be wandering around alone with a man unchaperoned, let alone in a stable of all places, but Montrel is one of her father’s finest soldiers.

He had entrusted both her cousin and Khobi to his care on separate occasions, why should he not entrust his daughter, too?

​(It’s entirely different, but Xena decides not to think too hard about it.)

​His horse is very pretty. And has just the most beautiful temperament.

She has lovely, gentle eyes and even lets Xena pat her without fussing, and it strikes her as quite silly, how a soldier could possibly find a match in such a gentle creature.

​She supposes it can only be a good thing.

​"She’s a charming lady," she remarks, and really means it.

The horse bats her big eyes at her and makes a sound that Xena decides to interpret as a thank you.

​"Don’t let her fool you," Montrel tells her, watching his horse with what Xena can only assume is wildly undue suspicion, "She’s not always this polite."

She doesn’t believe a word of it, and giggles as the sweet mare snorts at her master for being so rude.

​"Do you have one? A horse?" he queries casually, giving his horse a treat anyways, and then grimaces as he immediately answers his own question.

"...That was dumb. Of course you do."

​"Yes, Montrel," she tells him patiently, and can’t quite hide a smile when he gives her a pained look,

"I have a horse."

​He chuckles, like she’s right for making fun of him –how long has it been since Xena’s made fun of someone like that –then casually stops her heart by saying, "We should go for a ride sometime."

​Her face immediately flames.

​So bold !

​"... Montrel , that’s hardly appropriate..." Xena stammers, cheeks red and butterflies dancing in her stomach.

He looks immediately alarmed as he realises his misstep in so thoughtlessly extending such an invitation to his princess .

But he needn’t worry. She’s figured out that Montrel says a lot of things not appropriate for princessly ears. And she doesn’t mind in the slightest.

​"...And I would like that very much."

...

"He said what? ?"

​Servants scurry forwards as the remains of Gurdet’s wine drip off the edge of the table to the stone floor; the goblet lying quite pathetically on its side where it spilled.

​"You heard me," his daughter replies simply, setting her teacup down on its saucer with far too much decorum for a daughter who has just completely, unrepentantly blindsided her poor, old father.

​Gurdet did, in fact, hear her.

​He just can’t believe it.

​"You can’t tell me you’re seriously considering it?" he splutters, acutely aware that his calm, carefully crafted exterior is cracking all over.

Bongo, ever dependable, comes over with a fresh goblet of wine and hands it to him with a pat on the back that grounds him somewhat.

​"Why shouldn’t I?" she tells him, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

​" Why shouldn’t you, well –! Xena , ten years you’ve been refusing to have so much as a cup of tea and a walk around the castle with a man, now you’re talking about riding off into the sunset with one?" Gurdet spouts, thoughts and emotions in absolute and unprecedented disarray .

​Okay, so he made that last part up. She never mentioned sunsets or any of the like, but it was implied .

​"You’re being very dramatic," his daughter states reproachfully, "I thought you’d be pleased."

​" Pleased ?" Gods, what on earth would make her think such a thing? Him?

Pleased? That his only daughter –heir to this kingdom –is talking about running off with some good-for-nothing soldier?

​Again, he may be exaggerating. Just a little.

He takes a long breath and a sweep swig of wine to centre himself.

​" Come now , Xena," he scoffs, when he feels as though he’s managed to reign in his visceral reaction to his daughter’s delightful revelation.

"Be serious. Don’t tell me you actually like the man?"

​The romantically is implied, but Gurdet can’t bring himself to say the word.

​Xena just purses her lips and looks away, hands folded neatly in her lap.

​"Would it be quite so bad if I did?"

​Yes . A thousand times, yes .

​Gurdet’s kingdom is destined for ruin.

​"It’s just a ride, Your Majesty," Bongo placates quietly, clearly sensing his inner turmoil.