The Kings Personal Joker (boyxboy)

Chapter Sixty One

[Demosthenes POV]

I watched quietly as four of my mothers servants crept silently up to the table. They wore dark green robes with roses embroidered on them, their heads bowed as they moved, their robes trailing on the floor. The one at the forefront of the line holding a large wooden box, painted a plain black as is the standard, sure to be the only simple thing about her gift.

I had a certain respect for my mother, despite her being someone that had never taken the time to get to know me through any other terms other than political bickering's, and even this was rarely done in person.

She had survived a great deal, and even though the question of her morality still lay unanswered and untouched on the table, it was still a life filled with hardship and the sort of stubbornness that allowed enough courage to hold onto power. A distant woman, a very intelligent one, though. She had made for a powerful queen and an unfortunate mother.

Despite my life without much of a role model in my ruling parents I had not been miserable, not until I had been forced to take the throne, anyway... and I suspected she too had not been miserable up until this point.

The woman had wanted an heir she could woo and manipulate and wrap her little strings around so that when I inevitably passed she would once again be back in power... I was due for Death long ago, my time should have already passed. The lifespan of a king is known to be far shorter than the years I had been gifted... but the Fates have their designs in mind for this world... good or bad.

I waved my hand. "Step forward." I ordered him.

He was standing with his hands by his side, appearing, perhaps, to be nervous and uncertain in the centre of the space designed for entertainers. It was as though when he finally completed his dance, the music, and he was finally pulled from that strange reverie, he remembered where he was and who was watching.

He took a couple small steps forwards, still a little too far to accept a gift from where he was standing. He looked curious but also ready to run, those large naïve eyes glancing upwards to see me staring at him, before he nervously looked away.

I smiled inwardly, the way he looked at me... Did he knew how sweet those little gazes where? It made me want to taste him.

And yet he held an innate understanding of what was going on here, the strange relationship between my guests and myself. Though I fancied it impossible that he would know any details about the guests themselves, or their characters, he had watched noticed. It made me curious, whether his talent for insight was something he recognised himself.

He seemed too busy looking at windows and doors to notice who he was and what he wanted. 

I nodded in the direction of my own servants, who had been waiting wordlessly in one of the servants hallways to the left of me with the gift in question.

She was predictable. She was always predictable, it was one of her great downfalls. And unfortunately for her, I had they great, albeit often accidental, talent for being unpredictable in many ways.

Her sharp eyes surveyed my servants as they moved forwards in perfect rehearsed succession, the wooden box, one which was larger than hers, painted un unassuming black, being carried by the strongest of them the two feet it took to stand at a similar distance from Elpis the Joker as my mothers servants.

Another servant came up from behind and aided the servant in the front in keeping it held upright and safe.

The Joker watched the servants with an unarmed curiosity on his face. I knew he did not understand why I was giving him a gift, nor why my mother was. Better that he not know, so that I may gauge his natural reaction. Out of simple inquisitiveness on my part.