Chapter 468 - 469: Smiling.

Chapter 468: Chapter 469: Smiling.

Montrel feels kind of stupid. A little less stupid because when he’d mentioned to Bongo what he wanted to do, he’d seemed to think it was a good idea, but still a little stupid.

His formal uniform has been getting a lot of use recently. He even polished his breastplate. Drogger probably wouldn’t even recognise him.

It’s still hard not to fidget though. He knows this painting, everyone in the castle knows this painting. He’s not sure when it started or by whom, but as long as he can remember the soldiers have bowed when they pass it by out of respect for their late queen. Some of the more superstitious soldiers even try to avoid it completely; saying that there’s something about it that makes them uneasy. Like the two women depicted there are just on the other side of the frame, watching the castle go by.

Montrel’s never bought into that particular suspicion, but he sure gets it today. As Loac’s primary babysitter –and later punching bag –he was one of the soldiers who had had dealings with both the Queen and her sister from a relatively young age. It was a long time ago, but the Queen depicted here looks exactly as he remembers her. And now that he’s here, he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do, exactly; what he’s supposed to say, and for a long moment he just stands there looking up at the painting before hurriedly finding somewhere else to look when he remembers that his ma would probably scold him for staring. Particularly at their queen.

Maybe he should’ve asked Bongo about this, too.

He eventually remembers to bow, dipping his head.

"Uh, Your Majesty?" he coughs, once he’s straightened up. In the silence of the hallway, his voice carries, echoing off the walls and then finally fading away to nothing; leaving him standing alone in the corridor, staring blankly at a painting. Montrel’s brow pinches into a frown and he slings a furtive glance left and then right down the corridor before settling his gaze straight forward again. The Queen’s expression hasn’t changed –she’s a painting, of course it hasn’t –but for some reason she looks like she’s waiting for him to speak.

So he does.

"...I...You probably don’t remember me," he starts, clearing his throat and pushing back his shoulders because he can already hear Bongo telling him to speak up and stand up straight, "I was uh, assigned to watch over the prince and princess when they were kids?"

He’s talking to a painting, so he receives no response. Obviously. It’s hard not to fidget, but Montrel pushes down the urge.

"I’m here because..."

It’s weird, but he gets the feeling she would remember him. She had a great memory, the queen. She’d probably remember the times he’d had to tell her and her husband that he’d had a right time dragging Loac down from a tree, or hadn’t been able to stop him climbing the parapets, or actually, he’d completely lost track of him again.

Gods, if anything she probably has a terrible impression of him.

" What’s he done this time ?" Is what Gurdet always used to say, on those days when Montrel had returned to them empty handed. Always with an eye-roll, and always unsurprised.

"Nice to see you again, Montrel," is what Her Majesty had always said to him instead. It helps a little if he imagines that this is just another one of those meetings, except that this time he’s not here with bad news.

(He hopes.)

So with a low huff, Montrel stands up a little straighter, a little taller, and greets her like he might greet her if she were standing right there in front of him.

"It’s been a while, Your Majesty."

He really should have practised what he was going to say. Or at the least asked Bongo for some advice.

"...Your daughter..." he begins, confidence waning as quickly as it had risen, "Princess Xena, that is..."

Oh come on . Why the fuck did he clarify that? She only has one daughter. But he’s already gone and opened his mouth. Can’t get any worse, right?

"...She makes me happy, and I like to think I can make her happy, too. Or I uh, I think I do . Make her happy, that is."

Fuck .

At least he remembers not to curse in front of her?

Not much, but it’s a start.

"I would really like to marry your daughter," he blurts out, because when it comes down to it, that’s what he wants to say, and he’s got an awful bad habit of just saying whatever it is that comes to mind. Except Xena doesn’t seem to see it as the bad habit he’s been told it is. "I guess I just came here to ask if that...would be all right?"

He doesn’t say he’ll do his best. He may be an idiot but he’s not stupid enough to think that merely his best will good enough.

"I promise I’ll take good care of her. Not that she needs taking care of. She’s amazing like that. I mean..."

Well, this is going really well.

This is starting to feel like a setup on Loac’s part. Wouldn’t be the first practical joke he’s ever played on him. Unbelievably, Montrel finds himself fondly looking back on the days there was horse dung involved, and almost wishes this was one of those times. That would be stinkier but considerably less embarrassing than this.

And yet.

The longer he stands there rambling away, the more he gets that disconcerting sense of being watched; the hairs on the back of his neck starting to rise and the uncanny weight of eyes upon him. Like there really is someone on the other side of the painting staring out at him. He’s a little loathe to stare back for too long though, because for starters his ma would bitch him out but also because he’s not entirely convinced that she isn’t going to blink, and that’d probably be enough to make him shit himself.

And while the queen can’t possibly hear him because she’s a painting, and because she’s a painting it’s impossible to know whether she approves of what he’s just asked, but as he trails off –trying desperately to avoid saying something stupid –an odd sense of relief washes over him, and weirdly enough, when he looks up it honest to god feels like she’s smiling.