Chapter 261 - 259: Queens.

Chapter 261: Chapter 259: Queens.

​" Just a ride ," Gurdet scoffs, muttering into his goblet, "You know who went off for just a ride –" Bongo gives him a stern sidelong look, and he grudgingly trails off before he goes and says anything too scandalous.

​But come on .

What kind of man doesn’t even approach a young woman’s father before asking something like that? Sure, Montrel has never been the most sensible of men, but this is a new low.

​’ Not the most sensible of men’ . What a glowing description of the man who might one day rule alongside his daughter.

It’s hardly a done deal of course; Bongo’s right in that a ride is sometimes just a ride, but it’s far too close for Gurdet’s liking.

​Gods, where did he go wrong? He’s grown complacent, that’s what.

His daughter has spent so many years harping on and on about wanting to fall hopelessly in love while at the same time never once showing even passing interest in a man that he’d just foolishly convinced himself it would just never happen.

And now she is , and he is hopelessly, desperately unprepared.

​Both as a king and as a father, it would seem.

​It pains him to even think it, but his wife would have probably known what to do.

​So the moment Xena excuses herself, picking up her skirts and looking entirely too pleased with herself, he does what any self-respecting husband would do.

​It’s been a minute since he’s paid this part of the castle a visit, and even though here she’s just a painting, the artist captured his wife so entirely that he as soon as he approaches, he can almost feel her asking what it is he wants; that he only visits when there’s something he wants, or wants to say.

​"Hello to you too, my dear," he greets on a sigh, coming to stand before her visage with his hands clasped behind his back, and cuts straight to the chase. "...I’m afraid the worst has finally happened."

​Our daughter is in love.

​And there’s nothing I can do about it.

​Xena’s probably already told her. Daughters are meant to be able to tell their mothers these sorts of things and whisper about them behind their father’s back.

He’s sure she came straight here, blushing like a common schoolgirl and bursting with joy at the thought that the boy she liked might just like her back.

​You’re being dramatic, Horang . That’s what she would say.

Even after all these years he can hear her voice, word perfect.

​"Ah, Xena said the same thing," he sighs aloud. She’s so much like her mother sometimes that it’s infuriating.

​And it’s at times like this that he misses her terribly.

If his wife were still here he would pace before her up and down the length of their chambers, and she would listen and roll her eyes as he lamented the future of their kingdom and grieves what could have been had their daughter just let him arrange a proper match like every other princess this side of the sea.

But no, she wanted to marry for love.

​She’s not a child anymore, his wife would remind him, and he would argue back that she’s still so young and too naive, and thinks she knows the world when really she has no idea of how little she truly knows.

And besides, Xena will make a wonderful Queen regardless of she chooses to marry.

​That’s how they raised her, after all.

​You and I both know that she always going to marry whoever she wanted, regardless of what you and I thought.

And if you think otherwise, you’re a fool.

​And she’d be right, as she so often was.

​Come now, Horang , is what she’d say once she caught him speechless; with that playfully discerning, knowing look that Gurdet had grown so deeply fond of and infuriated by in their years spent together, Is it really your crown you’re worried about ?

​He’d say it was, but she’d know it wasn’t.

And eventually, he would stop pretending.

​Gurdet sighs, sinking down into the bench opposite the painting, and spares a glance for the other woman standing in the painting with his wife.

For how small a thing, the ugly ring still sitting in the depths of his pocket feels suddenly heavy.

​"...She’s my little girl," he whispers, and in the silence of this hallway he lets his voice crack, infinitesimally.

Being a father has never come naturally to him, and all the swirling emotions that come with it are exactly the sort of things that get used and toyed with by men like him, but a father he is.

And as a father, isn’t he allowed to worry?

Just this once?

He’s known silly young women just like her who dream of falling hopelessly in love. And he’s seen what happens when they get their hearts stolen and played with by enchanting but wayward men.

​He can’t let that happen to his own daughter.

​He just can’t.

​It’s there that Bongo finds him, some time later.

​"I thought I’d find you here," he says by way of greeting.

It’s more casual than he would normally ever speak to him in public, but there’s no one to hear.

He dips his head to each the late queen and her sister, and then takes a seat at Gurdet’s side.

There aren’t many people he would allow to do something so familiar, but Bongo is one of them. "So, what did she have to say?"

​"...That I was being dramatic," Gurdet sighs, melodramatically. Bongo gives him a dry look.

​"Which you were," he reminds him, far more reproachfully than he should, even for a Captain.

Gurdet lets it slide, the way he always lets it slide with Bongo.

​"... And that I should trust my daughter’s judgement more," he adds, shaking his head at the very notion. Bongo bobs his head in agreement.

​"She’s right," he points out and Gurdet rolls his eyes, scoffing.

​" I know that ." The corners of Bongo’s eyes crease.

​"And Montrel is a good man," he states, and the implication that Gurdet may have overreacted isn’t quite subtle enough for his liking, "I’m sure that should the time come, then he would make a fine son-in-law."

​Gurdet hopes the time never comes.

​"Oh I know that look," Bongo deadpans, and perhaps he should’ve tried just a little harder to conceal his thoughts.

After his wife, Bongo is probably the best practised at deciphering his various devious expressions. "...Your Majesty, please don’t do anything rash."

​"When have I ever done anything rash, Bongo?" Gurdet inquires politely, "...And even if I did, I’m the King . I’m allowed to be rash."

​Bongo just sighs.

​"Of course, Your Majesty," he tells him dutifully. Gurdet gives him a thin smile, and glances back up at the painting, not at his wife this time, but at her sister, who honestly has a lot to answer for.

​"...And don’t even get me started on your son ."