Chapter 267 - 265: Sweating Buckets.

Chapter 267: Chapter 265: Sweating Buckets.

​"Ah, Montrel, thank you for meeting with me," he eventually remarks, as though he’s just noticed him, and he rather hopes that that isn’t Bongo rolling his eyes that he spies.

​"Of course, Your Majesty," Montrel replies dutifully, still standing at attention and looking mildly concerned.

His brow wrinkles even further. Gurdet usually loves this part –watching them squirm as they desperately try to identify what they’ve done that’s brought them here –but today he’s trying hard not to think too much about it.

​"Why don’t you sit?" he inquires pleasantly, gesturing to the place opposite him, already neatly prepared.

​" Uh ." It’s so obvious, the way Montrel looks across at Bongo for guidance.

Gurdet pretends not to see Bongo shake his head. "I –I’d rather stand, if it’s all the same with you."

​Gurdet shrugs, and takes a sip of his tea.

​He’s starting to look nervous.

​Good .

​Gurdet lets him sweat while he finishes his cup of tea, then pours himself a second.

It’s usually his favourite but it’s rather tasteless today.

​"...I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here," he sighs, after a lengthy moment of silence punctuated by a pointed and somewhat unnecessary cough from Bongo.

​"Uh, yeah," Montrel replies, and Gurdet does his best to hide his grimace, he truly does, as he hurriedly remembers that he’s addressing his king. "...I mean yes, Your Majesty."

He fidgets, frown deepening, "...If this is about that thing with Loac and Khobi, that was a –"

​" --Not everything is about my nephew," Gurdet cuts in abruptly, and Montrel flinches at the unexpected steel in his tone.

Gurdet has spent quite some time pondering just how to best go about this, but given Montrel’s history, he supposes he should be direct.

​"...Do you want to be a king, Montrel?"

​Montrel’s expression immediately morphs from uncomfortably confused to completely baffled .

​" What ? Me?" he squawks, and Gurdet just barely manages to keep his expression neutral at how obnoxiously and inappropriately loud his voice comes out.

Bongo, however, visibly cringes. " Gods no," he splutters, aghast at the very notion, "What would make you think –"

​"So then tell me, what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?"

​Montrel’s eyes bug comically.

​" Huh ?"

Oh, how eloquent. If this wasn’t such a distasteful conversation Gurdet would probably have enjoyed this.

​As it is, he can’t take even an ounce of joy in the poor man’s suffering.

​"...It seems she has..." Gurdet mulls over his words with vague distaste, folding his fingers together in front of himself, "... Taken a shine to you ."

​"...Has she?"

​Well this is just great . Just perfect. While he seems genuinely surprised by this information –and a touch wary, like he’s not entirely sure whether or not he’s being messed with –he also looks unbelievably chuffed .

It makes Gurdet want to drag his hands down his face in despair. Montrel always has worn his emotions –and his thoughts –on his sleeve.

A dreadful trait for a potential son-in-law, let alone a potential king.

​Ugggggggghhhhhh .

​Gurdet takes a moment to centre himself before starting his new line of inquiry.

​"So I take it you want to marry her, then." It’s more statement than question, and has what’s left of Montrel’s composure slipping right off his face.

​"I... what ?" he stutters, "I-I didn’t say that!"

​It’s true that he didn’t. But he didn’t deny it either.

​"So you intend to string her along." Another loaded statement.

And one that makes Montrel turn a very interesting colour.

​" No , of course I wouldn’t –"

​Oh , this is just too easy. Honestly .

​"...Ah, so you do wish to pursue her?" Gurdet can feel Bongo’s disapproval without having to look over.

It’s something of a gift. And he can go and disapprove all he bloody well likes; this is what happens when a man so thoughtlessly steals the heart of his only daughter.

Such things have consequences.

​To his surprise, Montrel doesn’t just flat out deny it.

Asked such a question by their king, most men would, regardless of their feelings.

But Montrel just straightens up, looks him dead in the face, and goes in entirely the opposite direction.

​"...If she would have me."

​Ugh . It’s such good, honourable answer, too. The only answer Gurdet would have accepted, even.

​Well, if that’s the case, then there’s only one thing for it.

​"...Well I suppose you better ask her then," Gurdet mutters, rolling his eyes and slouching back into his chair in defeat, "Bongo, fetch my daughter, if you will?"

​The blood immediately drains from Montrel’s face.

It’s quite fascinating, the spectrum of colours the human face has access to.

​"What, now ?" he stammers, eyes desperately seeking out Bongo for guidance, or perhaps salvation.

But it’s far too late for that.

​"No time like the present, Montrel," Gurdet remarks lightly, "And this I must see."

...

Montrel’s never sweated so much in his life.

​What the fuck is going on? Here he is, hauled into his king’s quarters expecting to be dragged over the coals for Khobi and Loac breaking a fence the other day at training, when out of the blue he’s being set up to confess to his goddamned princess .

​Sure, he’d toyed with the idea for all of two minutes, and then passed it off as completely absurd.

Xena has all sorts of fancy, rich men chasing after her and none of them have ever been good enough to sway her.

So what chance did he have? It’s not like he’s even a Captain or anything like that.

His family’s of noble lineage, sure, but not noble, noble –not in the way Rogard’s family or Ynoro’s, or even Gandy’s is, dammit. He’s nowhere near as loaded as any of them, and doesn’t know how to talk or dress the way nobles are meant to.

He can swing a sword pretty well, but so can a lot of other men.

In what possible world might an actual princess be interested in him ?

​Dimly, he wonders if he really is being set up.

That maybe this is payback for Montrel consistently and spectacularly failing at the one job he’s been tasked with over the years –keeping an eye on Loac –but the fact that Bongo seems in on all of this makes it seem like maybe there’s no trick.

The Third Captain is different. He doesn’t play games.