The Kings Personal Joker (boyxboy)

Chapter Nine

[A/N] Wattpad nearly gave me a heart attack last last night when my book disappeared. I was writing this chapter and it refused to save and I looked at my book on another tab and it said it had been taken down or deleted.
O╭╮O
I freeeeeeeaked!
Anyway, inexplicably, it has returned. I'M BACKING EVERYTHING UP!

Ophelos was a stout, short man, with a very disinterested attitude. I discovered very quickly that it was in his character to give one the impression that he were sick of you without ever having even met you.

He was clean shaven and very smart. His hair which was probably ginger had been powdered black to disguise the, perhaps considered to be too bright a colour, and it looked stiff and uncomfortable.

He wore his clothes with impeccable standards and I felt as though he were the type of man who would measure how far he pulled his socks up.

I felt uncomfortable around him. Like he was watching my every move.

Ophelos was waiting for me when I left but this was not directly after the dance.

After the dance I was guided back to my seat and offered desert, offered in the polite sense... as in they offered it to me and you weren't really supposed to say no.

Either way it was delicious, not anything out of the ordinary, just a slice of cake and some strawberries. I hadn't had strawberries in a very long, long time and they were so good.

The cake was so fresh it was still warm and the chocolate icing had barely had time to harden. I would have licked my fingers clean if I hadn't been under the watchful eye of the King.

It felt strange to sit there after performing, my muscles ached silently.

The atmosphere of the room felt strange, his eyes were constantly on me, the King didn't eat the desert he allowed it to be presented before him but didn't touch it. He looked at it once, but didn't lift his fork.

I found it hard to breath in the same room as him.

Like every muscle tensed just waiting for something, anything, the silence before the storm.

When, finally, I left I was first guided to Helga, upon my plea, who looked particularly cosy in her little hiding place. They had spared her a stall in the the horse house and she was feeding on some grass hay with a content expression on her face. I brushed her coat for a short time and got a funny look from the stable master and pulled a sheet of brush over her and said good night.

Our next stop was the servants quarters.

A large beautiful castle always had it's secrets, one of it's secrets was the servants, they were invisible.

The servants were the shadows on the floor and they were the cracks in the walls, they swooped in before you saw them and tied your shoe laces and then, inexplicably, disappeared again.

The huge tower, one of four others, was the servants house. It was a quiet tall figure from the outside, looming and perhaps slightly imposing but otherwise almost as unobtrusive as the servants.

The ivy that crept up the walls along those small odd windows peeking out at random points was an example of something that probably looked a lot nicer during the day but at night looking like spiders marching. The torches giving them long legs made of shadows.

The belly of this seemingly empty tower was cold and damp and very, very silent. It's interior was also it's exterior, no paint, no carpet, every footstep left a resounding echo along those dark stone walls.

The occasional torch was placed periodically in torch holders along the walls. They were slightly too low so that one had to duck or step aside to avoid touching fire and they were not nearly frequent enough.

The lack of light would often cause patches of solid darkness to envelope you for that few terrifying seconds as we climbed those seemingly endless stairs.

When we reached the servants living quarters I was overjoyed to feel the warmth of a fire having been lit in the main furnace. I was allowed to stay close to it for a minute or so, glad to feel my fingers again, then I was made to move on.

Ophelos guided me to my room and gestured for me to get inside, he handed me a small key and placed it on the bed side table, then placed my belongings in the corner.

My room had in it only a single bed which surprised me greatly, to have my own room!

These single rooms were usually given to the upper third of servants, butlers and personal maids, advisers were in the upper fifth. But a lot of the workers had homes of their own, these rooms were only for those who didn't have families.

Of course it was like the rest, stone, cold, dark.

There was an unused candle beside my bed and I cut the wick with the wick trimmer, which was sitting beside it in all it's rusty unused glory, so that the candle may not burn as brightly or melt so fast.

Then I lit it immediately, the small flame was such a relief you would not believe. I felt the spiders of my imagination begin to crawl away.

The mattress of my bed was palliasse, filled with straw, it was small but looked full and comfortable.

I removed my jokers outfit slowly, the cold made me shiver, I was beginning to feel the crushing tiredness of a long days walking and performing.

I still felt the jingle of some of the money I had earned that day, I wondered what possible use it could have here if I wasn't allowed into the center.

What would I do about my paints while I was here? I would be the ridicule of the house if I kept them on but it could mean my death if I did not.

I decided on ridicule.

The paints were supposed to be alright for your skin, we shall see if this is still the case when wearing them for an entire week. I sighed. I will wash them off if privacy is offered, then immediately reapply.

I smudged it slightly, hoping to at least allow it to blend into my skin, some of it was already on my arms. Then I wiped some of it away deciding that no one would see either way.

When I looked for the paints which I would apply again in the morning I noticed in my belongings there was some excess which I knew did not belong to me.

My clothes were old, sewed together to a point where they were absolutely made for my body. They were comfortable and old and so ratty it made me look a little lumpy wearing them. The clothes that were instead folded so neatly together with my possessions were finely tailored and soft to the touch.

Nothing fancy, just what a fairly well off gentleman would wear. Certainly not something that would ever belong to me.

Along with this was a long white shirt of some kind. It was embroidered with such skill and felt unbelievably silky, almost sinfully so, I didn't dare touch it. I wasn't really sure what to make of it anyway.

So I stripped to my woolen braies ([A/N] Like boxers but with a drawstring and longer.) and slipped under my blankets, shivering.

I tapped out the flame of my candle and felt the darkness return.

Curling up into a ball I ducked under my blankets, breathing heavily, just trying to make it all a little bit warmer and somewhere in the midst of this task I fell deep asleep.

My aching limbs and shivering skin soon forgotten.

The walk in the woods forgotten too, the dance, the food... but not the King.

Those piercing eyes filled with condescension and glimmering anger, the man's face haunted me, though what exactly I dreamed I cannot tell.