The Kings Personal Joker (boyxboy)

Chapter Eight

[A/N] This chapter was actually published yesterday when it was impossibly glitchy due to some performance issues on Wattpad. It will probably be solved by the time I republish this. Wattpad employees are brilliant bless 'em.

(Taking it down and republishing it again for those still having issues with it.)

With the world on my shoulders I stood in the center of the room.

I took a deep breath and placed my right foot a little forwards, pointing my toes at the ground, and then, looking anywhere other than my King, I began to sing, slowly, till finally my body joined in with the song.  

"Arachne, weaver, O' weaver, mortal soul,
Will your eternally weaving hands be still.
What when your skill provokes envy and ire?
How will you save your tapestries from the fire.

Tinder, tinder, your work will burn,
Athena, fear her, O' fleshly one.
The mortal dared challenge a goddess
The mortal shall see what it means.
Arachne, your hubris is poison,
Through your veins it will run like a stream.
Are you cold? Rope round your nape,
Death is transient, you cannot escape.
Arachne, open one of your eyes,
Weave now your web, but your web is for flies.

Athena so cruel,
'Tis a veracious truth,
Heart filled with fire, spite and desire,
She turned that mortal soul, into a spider."

How I twisted and turned like I had never before, it felt good to be honest, the pair of eyes that were watching me disappeared as my focus became consumed by my activity. I sung and I played and I danced to what I felt was the best of my ability.

The air felt like water and it lifted me up and threw me back down, the bells on my hat chiming sweetly as I went.

There was nothing better than to lose yourself in such a thing. Feel your body stretch and the pleasant buzzing of the exertion of all of your limbs.

Such pleasure.

When eventually my lyre slowed the tune and I felt my body bring itself to a natural halt, I stood there in the center of the room and dared myself to look up at the King.

He had a stony expression on his face.

I felt all the disappointment my heart had to offer. The most inexplicable crushing despondency. Somehow the review of this man was something important to me and despite his station, I couldn't figure out why I felt his view was most decisive.

Then I noticed a glint in his eyes, something I had not seen before. A crack in his stony expression.

There was indeed something there that had not been there before.

It was a relief, because even disgust would have been better than mere disinterestedness.

I looked toward him, still expecting an review of some kind.

His eyes swam over my body like a snake measuring it's prey. It made me almost uneasy and despite all my efforts to read the mans expressions the crack revealed only fire. He did not say anything, he only looked at me, something akin to pleasure swimming in those dark, light-consuming eyes of his.

His eyes felt like hands.

I trembled silently.

And then he smiled, slightly.

And I shivered again because it was not only weird to see him smile but it was a weird smile, it looked like a sharks smile. As though it only looked like a smile because of the angle of his head.