Chapter 471 - 472: Taking Permission.

Chapter 471: Chapter 472: Taking Permission.

Loac.

That’s twice Montrel’s called him that now. He had nicknames for all the castle kids back then; some of which weren’t suitable for their parents’ ears. Those were the ones that wound up sticking best over the years. Brat was one of them. Asshole , too. Not Loac, though. Not that one. To this day, Montrel’s the only person who’s ever called him that; the only person to call him so casually by his given name who wasn’t his family. Even Khobi still calls him Loac .

It...doesn’t feel terrible, to hear it again; even from him.

Montrel-niichan . That’s what Loac used to call him, back then. What all the castle kids had called him. Montrel had kicked up a fuss about it too, which of course only made them say it more.

Loac hadn’t really expected him to take him seriously when he’d told him to come visit Auntie; that he did just shows that he’ll be the right one for Xena. Loac knows he doesn’t have the right to tell her who she should and shouldn’t like –not after shrugging her off all these years, but if he had, he definitely would’ve told her, in no uncertain terms: not this guy .

She wouldn’t have listened to him, and it would have been the right thing to do.

Despite what Montrel might think, he hadn’t been listening in. It’s somewhat of a talent of his, tuning out when he wants; something he’s gotten good at over the years. Some things don’t need to be heard, because if they’re not heard they can’t hurt, and some things are private. He knows what he was there for anyways. Auntie would’ve appreciated that he came; in fact she’s probably been waiting for it. Xena’s probably told her all about him; all the sappy details.

"...He really came, huh?" he muses aloud anyways, dropping down into the seat across from the painting without looking up at it. Immediately he can feel Ma’s eyes zero in on him, the familiar bells of her voice echoing in his ears, equal parts amused and intrigued.

Did you put him up to this ?

Ma, always so suspicious of him. It’s her own fault, for raising him that way.

"Huh? No," Loac lies automatically, and begrudgingly changes his answer because Ma always knows when he’s lying, "...He would’ve probably come anyways. He...likes Xena a lot." He’d do anything to make her happy. Even shaking hands with him.

He doesn’t say that, but he never has to say things aloud for Ma to hear them.

I’m glad the two of you have resolved your differences , she says, and it kind of sounds like she’s laughing. Loac’s nose wrinkles. It’s nothing like that, really. They have some things in common, is all. Some people.

"...I wouldn’t say that."

What would you say then?

Ugh. Ma, always putting him on the spot when he tries to get smart with her.

"...I guess he’s all right," he relents, after a moment. Mumbled, so he can pretend he never said it. Yeah, she’s definitely laughing.

Does he love her ? Of course that’s what she asks.

"I dunno. Maybe." He sighs, rolling his eyes because he can feel Ma’s disapproving look through the paint. If she didn’t want him lying, she shouldn’t have taught him how. "Yeah, I think so."

Good. Xena’s a good girl. She should be with someone who makes her heart smile.

" Gross ," Loac mumbles, because that’s what he always used to say when Ma said sappy stuff like that. Xena had always gotten up in arms at him about it but Ma had laughed and patted her on the head to calm her down and told him that he’d understand when he was older.

(He does. But Ma probably already knows that.)

Now, why did you come to visit me ?

He plays innocent, huffing, "...Do I need a reason to come visit you?"

I know you, Loac.

That she does. He could keep playing, but it’ll be a useless effort. She’s always been able to see right through him. So with a sigh, he hangs his elbows down over his knees and looks up at her.

There she is, like she always is, gazing back down at him from the paint. Pink hair, pink eyes, not at all like his, but also the dimple, the smile, and everything else that had Khobi saying "you look a lot like her". Depending on the day, depending on the light, depending on why he’s come to see her, her expression always looks just a little different. The other day when he and Khobi had come this way it had started out all smug when she was making fun, then by the end it had turned all soft, like it had when she used to kiss his forehead goodnight.

Today she’s politely inquisitive, eyebrow seemingly raised as she waits.

"Pa comes to visit you, still."

There’s a long silence, and if Loac closes his eyes and listens hard enough he swears he can hear footsteps upon the empty corridor, stepping down from the painting and slowly pacing their way towards him.

The wind’s gentle today. A spring breeze, that carries the scent of the forest with it.

It reminds him of Ma.

I know that, he can hear her reply. Closer, somehow, like she’s only a pace away from him; sitting right beside him there on the bench, Sentimental fool.

She always called him that, and still says it with affection, and Loac wishes she wouldn’t. Because for the longest time he hadn’t been able to understand how she could possibly still love the guy who left them (him) one day and never came back.

(He thinks he understands a little, now. But that doesn’t make it easier.)

"He left me your ring."

He still had that old thing? That’s good. It was always meant to be yours.

"About that..." Loac mumbles quietly, rubbing the back of his neck and ready to duck in case she reaches a hand out to pull his ear for even asking. "...You remember Khobi Frost, right?"