The Kings Personal Joker (boyxboy)

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Three

[A/N] I'm back ! Sorry about the delay. I had issues posting this on Patreon and then had to get on a long flight so I didn't have time to post it on Wattpad. I haven't replied to anyone's messages yet because no time but I'll get to them now. In Thailand safe and sound, but I got burnt on the first day !  

For those wondering about Floating Face Down. Soon I will have a week dedicated to writing this book exclusively, so I can put out a lot of updates!

Okay, long chapter, let's go.... !

Amun was very hard to cheer up when we returned, he even kicked and glared at us. I'd swallowed back an enormous amount of guilt as he grabbed a hold of my sleeve when we walked back inside, a small procession of royalty whispering behind, some being displaced by royal guards as the lot of us, well and truly exhausted, returned to the warm carpeted halls of the palace.

They had not let him stay in his fathers bed and he had dark circles around his eyes and was quite unhappy with us. Demosthenes argued that he was used to his fathers absence and so it was my fault for leaving, but I retorted that it was he who had sent me away anyway. We argued for a while as we walked down the corridors but kept it to whispers.

Really he could be incorrigible, but the back and forth did not feel emotionally charged at all, it was an argument without the argument part.

Demosthenes reluctantly carried his son with him and Amun buried his face in his shoulder and even as we were alone, as alone as one could ever really be in the palace, servants whispering as they nearly ran away from him, hurrying out of the bedroom with the sheeting used to protect the room from dust, Amun did not let go.

"Off now!" Demosthenes complained gruffly with his son, but he clung to him and did not let go of my sleeve either.

"Come on little brother, we'd better put you to bed..." I smiled guiltily at him.

Amun still had a frown on his face that looked suspiciously like a glare, but not quite angry enough, as he watched me.

I held out my arms. "Come on little Prince..." He reluctantly let me collect him from Demos's arms and I put him on the bed and couldn't resist patting his grumpy wet cheeks before taking off his shoes.

I turned back at Demos who was watching me, eventually slowly disrobing, draping his cloak over the seat of a chair.

He walked over to his son who glared up at his father and looked intimidated for a moment. Demos frowned at him and pointed at the bed behind him. "Go on, lie down properly, don't wail again, they'll think you're possessed." 

The both of us were filthy but apparently about as tired as Amun so the moment we joined him on the bed, intending to get washed and changed the moment he was conceivably sleeping, we fell asleep too, exhausted and battered, starving for sleep and proper food and drink and just the general cradle of rest.

In the morning I woke up to numb arm with Amun drooling on it, his cheek pressed against my bicep as he laid on his belly, fast asleep.

The curtains of the four poster bed were drawn shut. When we slept well into the day it was a good think for them to be shut, to keep the light of the sun out, so I assumed this was why.

When I pulled back the curtain to look for the Demos I blinked in surprise.

Demosthenes was already out of bed sitting in his chair before his desk, still mostly undressed but with his wet-robe, a sort of light black silk robe that was donned upon waking and before dressing. He looked bored as two medics fussed about his wounds and nervously tiptoed around him, carefully wording and rewording their advice.