Chapter 7: Meeting His Groom.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7: Meeting His Groom.

"Him?? NO! What are you talking about??" khobi shouts, his voice filled with rage " what? You think Silas sent you here on a whim?" The king says, He looked down over his glasses almost reproachfully, "I did say I wasn’t going to kill you."

Whatever else Khobi had been about to blurt out was cut off as he felt a cloth gag being forcefully shoved into his mouth. He tried to bite, tried to spit it out, tried to form the words that Silas couldn’t do this to him, that there was no way he was marrying anyone but the captain holding him was as big as him, strong, and obviously better-kept than Khobi, so it was a futile effort. For what it was worth, he noted that the man at least looked apologetic for predicting his outcry.

"You’re joking," Loac deadpanned, sounding as though his uncle had said something rather offensive, glancing across at the muddy redhead currently being gagged to preserve some of the peace in the castle, "You’re marrying me off to this man?"

"...Though I’ll admit I’m amused, I am most certainly not joking," Gurdet replied, dead serious though his tone remained what he thought was rather pleasant. "And I wasn’t aware you had a preference."

"Tch..." Loac snorted, looking down his nose at the redhead now clamping his teeth down on a cloth gag and glaring at him as though there was nothing more he desired than to punch him in the face. Khobi did want to punch him in the face, if only to vent some of the ugly, heavy feeling boiling in his gut. This was Silas’s new plan? So he had just been exchanged as property. If he’d thought the answer would be any different from how it had been for half his life, he might’ve asked if it mattered what he wanted.

His apparent betrothed was beginning to circle him in a way he didn’t like, it felt like he was being evaluated, hunted, like the other man was sizing him up for a meal. This time, he didn’t look at him, because he could feel the heat of a smirk of a man who was at the very least content with what he saw. This time he fixed his glare upon that black-haired king, Gurdet. Was he just like Silas?

So fixated on leering up at the king sitting so smarmily at his swanky table, Khobi barely heard the almost thoughtful hum of the man standing beside to him, so when a tanned hand snaked out and crudely cupped his ass, he let out a muffled yelp as though he’d been bitten.

Gurdet shook his head in exasperation as the captive prince tried to flinch away from the contact, something most intriguing crossing his gaze, something that either Loax didn’t see or chose to ignore in favour of giving his ass a quick squeeze. The redhead merely gritted his teeth on his gag, but the king noticed the way his jaw clenched and the way his eyes lit up in...anger?

"Hmm," Loac snickered, taking a step back and looking almost pleased with the heavy look in those red eyes glinting at him, "...He’ll do." There was another choked noise of protest from Khobi, but apparently Loac was done with his evaluation, and was returning to the table, paying no mind to the man who had tried to maul him only moments ago.

Gurdet looked across at his daughter with a smile as if to say ’see, it all turned out well’, but she wasn’t looking at him, she was staring across at the man most unfortunately bound and gagged and wearing eyes shouting out to be freed.She couldn’t seem to look away.

"What should I ask them to do, your majesty?" Vogrid inquired quietly.

"Hmm?" Gurdet raised an eyebrow, "Well, clearly make sure he doesn’t escape again."

"...You want to keep him prisoner?"

" –Did I say that? No, of course not; we’re not tyrants...just...send him to one of the guest rooms, and make sure to push something heavy in front of the door," he advised, as though that were the obvious solution. "...I’m sure he’ll calm down." Both king and attendant glanced towards the doorway as Bongo strode over to receive instruction; Khobi still struggling and sprinkling drying mud across the stone floor, but at least not trying to head-butt any of the guards while the captain wasn’t within arms reach.

His eyes never left Loac, boring through him, even as the prince of Crade turned his back on his supposed betrothed and returned to mindlessly adding food to his plate. It was a little strange, the vehemence in those red eyes, what kind of a man looked at a stranger like that?

"Hmm...he knows him..." Gurdet mused, most curiously, as his attendant relayed the king’s orders to his captain. Vogrid paused, adjusting his glasses, before clearing his throat and replying, "...Prince Loac does have a reputation..."

"That’s not what I mean, and you know it," he scoffed, "What do you really think?"

There was a long pause, though it was impossible to say whether or not the king interpreted it as thoughtful contemplation or hesitance.

"I...I’m sure I couldn’t say, your majesty," Vogrid finally replied with a stoniness that at least went uncommented on. But something did seem to strike him, as he called out to Bongo, who was gesturing for his men to start dragging Khobi off deeper into the castle again. "Captain?" Bongo paused expectantly as the king’s attendant nodded towards the table, "...Take some food along with you. It would reflect poorly on the hospitality of our kingdom if we were seen neglecting our guests."

"Right you are, my lord," Bongo remarked gruffly, with a slow bow of his head. Even Montrel, still dealing with a nose undoubtedly at least indirectly caused by Loac, couldn’t help but snigger in amusement at seeing the kingdom’s Third Captain so staunchly armed with a tray and stiffly traipsing about like some kind of butler. It took a few decent shoves, but apparently the smell of food acted to make Khobi the slightest bit more docile, resulting in no casualties as he was escorted from the room.

"...Well that went well," Gurdet mused to his daughter with a reassuring smile, when tedious silence had once again descended on the dining room.

" –Only because they had Prince Khobi bound like a common criminal," Xena replied disapprovingly, shaking her head sadly as she eyed the way her cousin had apparently decided that whatever was on the table was more interesting than his impending marriage. "...Imagine what might have happened if he’d been free...He looked like he wanted to hit Loac..."

"It’s a pity he didn’t," Gurdet sighed in genuine disappointment, "He could handle taking a couple of hits now and then..."

"Like he could lay a hand on me," Loac drawled disinterestedly, only distantly aware that his family was talking about him, and not sharing his cousin’s concern. " –He didn’t seem like anything special..."

"He’s the Prince of Scargga, Loac, of course he’s special," Xena insisted, "I mean, with the mud he doesn’t look like much, but there’s just something about...him makes me think...he kind of...I don’t know..." She trailed off, biting her lip, as Loac hoisted his overloaded plate with an air of accomplishment and flung her a dry look.

"Tch, you’re being annoying again, Xena," he grumbled dismissively, turning his back on her. Despite the irritation in his voice, there was no fire and no real bite, just disinterest, and that always seemed to hurt her worst.

"You’re leaving already?"

"Huh? I only came to get food..."

"Loac it wouldn’t hurt you to spend some time with us!"

"Hmm...? Don’t wanna."

"I’d forgotten how nice it was to have a meal together as a family," Gurdet muttered dryly, eyeing his nephew’s indifferent escape from the dining room, and wincing as his daughter’s voice raised in pitch just ever-so-slightly too much for his ears to enjoy.

"So you don’t have anything to even say about this?" she sniffed, folding her arms, "At all?"

"What’s there to say?" Loac snorted dryly, "It’s just another engagement. That Khobi...he’s no big deal." When it became apparent that he was making for one of the nearby exits, Montrel moved to block him, obviously having spent far too long trying to locate him to let him leave so easily.

"Get out of my way," Loac remarked coolly, eyeing the man opposite him, face still streaking with light bloodstains. But Montrel simply folded his arms and stared him down, as if to ask where he thought he was headed. Blue eyes narrowed, not in the least bit intimidated. "...Or I’ll make you."

"Let him go, Montrel...I wouldn’t want to risk your nose taking another hit today..." Gurdet quickly advised, gesturing for the blond soldier to stand down, since it looked like things could come to blows. Montrel looked both thankful that he wasn’t going to have to tail the prince, and disappointed that he didn’t get the chance to at least take a swing at him. Clucking his tongue in annoyance, he stepped aside.

Gurdet watched Loac leave as abruptly as he’d entered, Xena shaking her head in resignation and settled back into picking at her food. At least now he was troubling to buckle his pants properly, though he was almost deliberately leaving his shirt hanging wide open for the entire castle to see what kind of amorous activities he’d been engaging in. A pity that his nephew’s eyes still seemed dull, he’d been hoping for Khobi to pique his interest a little more.

That being said, Gurdet was sure that as Loac stalked from the hall, taking pains to throw a piece of meat at Montrel’s face, he heard him musing, "Scargga? ...Why do I know that name?"

"He’s impossible," Xena huffed.

"My Lady. Loac...I mean, Prince Loac has always been wilful," Vogrid reminded her firmly as she pouted and stuffed morsel into her mouth in a most unladylike fashion to show her annoyance. The spare place set at the table suddenly seeming even emptier now that its intended guest had come and gone without so much as disturbing the glass of wine laid out beside it.

"Yes, but...to treat this so lightly...even for him," Xena sighed in frustration, "Does he think he won’t actually have to marry?"

"Tch, have you seen his track record?" Montrel scoffed from over by the doorway, before looking a little sheepish that he’d spoken so out of turn in the presence of royals, "...I mean...my lady..."

"No, you have a point," she admitted, "Father..." But Gurdet wasn’t exactly listening to those defeatist attitudes. Instead he was thinking back to Khobi. He was thinking back to that dirty mop of red hair, and the way those crimson eyes had peered out from under it. Eyes that, despite being in a foreign land, and despite having once belonged to the kingdom of Briyagi, still managed to, at the risk of sounding cheesy, burn with a boldness that he hadn’t seen in quite some time. He’d caught a flash of it on the night that Khobi had arrived, and he’d seen it again today.

Spirited. How...admirable.

Yes. The nobles could say what they liked, his daughter could be as skeptical as she wished, but he truly did feel like this time was going to a whole lot more interesting.