Reader implied to have experience in theaters. There's not much difference with the Visual Novel, but Reader is more assertive ig
Also a little bit rambling about art and AI because it's not my writing if I don't put my thoughts in it
English isn't my first language so ... sorry if it's kinda boring :] @thepipiuw
You remember taking a quiz of “Are You a Poet, Soldier, or King?” once and the result of getting a “King” role shook you to the core. You’re always more interested in the arts and creative fields. Passionate in something people turn a blind eye on yet always praise over, degenerating artists’ works when they’ve consumed it with greediness Mammon could envy over. Perhaps, that’s why humans work so hard to create Artificial Intelligence.
Envy of artworks they could never replicate without actually trying. Instantaneous. Like how the system demands you to follow.
You expected getting a “Poet” role since you thought it fits your archetype and personality best. Living in delusion of your creation in order to not lose your sanity and sense of self in this horrendous world. To play pretend and find your elation. To weave your own freedom to break free from strings the elites prepare you with. You see this world as a mere, grandeur stage to pose.
That’s how you got into theatrics back then.
On the stage, you are yourself and someone or something else. You built your masked joy from emotions and body languages. You had so many roles to carry on on the stage, operating your limbs like it’s no longer yours. The audience will clap and cheer at your displays, but foolish enough to barely scratch the surface of why you’re playing the roles. Maybe that’s why you’re broke because you’re still a nobody with little recognition as people couldn’t afford to pay for your performance or are guileless enough to not care about subtle traces.
So you were forced to apply on a red carpet of desperation which led you to become a nightguard of an abandoned theater with three main duties. You’ve seen the exterior of the building properties and don’t know whether to laugh or cry. The place looks way bigger for a mere theater and instead built like an actual castle from your historical lessons. Is this destiny’s way to tell you that your interest to play pretend wasn't futile and a waste of time?
“Why in the world would an abandoned place need a security guard?”
But that doesn’t mean you’re not intrigued. Ohoho, nooo. Quite the contrary, in fact. Kingdom of Marionettes. The place used to be famous for its life-sized puppet performances of the royal era and intricate designs.
“I guess the phrase ‘All roads lead back to Rome’ turns out to be right after all,” you mumbled as you read over the requirements and job descriptions.
"Keep the theater safe from vandals, clean the theater—okay you do you, copywriter—, make sure none of the puppets are missing and walking around, and monitor CCTV cameras."
You squint your eyes, making sure your eyesight is still okay. “Make sure none of the puppets are missing and walking around ….”
You thought you’d be more sensible and smarter than a horror movies’ protagonist. Yes, you did blink and double-take at that sentence. However, desperation tends to push people over the edge. So you inhale and seal your fate after you dialed the contact as they settle it immediately. No interview but not a scam. Too good to be true, you’re sure about.
You laughed at horror movies’ unrealistic behavior since it’s not you in their shoes.
Now? You’re the one in their shoes and you’re sure not being able to laugh at the creepy and dark atmosphere as dread and goosebumps claim you.
The place is massive. Mossy bricks and corridors upon corridors that lead you to somewhere unknown. You’re surprised there’s no traces of vandalism at all outside and it somewhat unsettles you. But your debts can’t be paid with green leaves, so you brace yourself for what is to come, stepping your foot and breathing new breath into the building.
Unfortunately, you didn’t have any detailed map of the inner structure aside from your assigned room, storage room, puppet room, and main stage. You’ll stick to the map you have first, deciding to buy another flashlight soon to explore the rest of nook and cranny—just in case you need an emergency stock. The only electricity you’ve tried so far only works in your room and you don’t want to drain the battery early in your shift.
You skip to the storage room and gather some cleaning supplies, turning on and tucking your flashlight under your arm as you step on a … red ball you know wasn’t there before. It squeaks as you lightly squish the ball before pocketing it and heading to the enormous stage.
It’s so silent. You can’t survive being suffocated by nothingness in this dull and dead theater. So you started to hum a tune and songs you like as you sweep to not feel vulnerable. The melody of your voice brings you a small sense of comfort, cleaning the dust, rust, grime; old witnesses of the past. Performing a menial chore as the ghost of the audience keeps you company. Dancing and acting like you’re the main character of the stage. End to end. From start to finish. Until you bow to your exhaustion, neat curtains, and shiny floorboard.
Sweat clings to your temple and uniform as you control and regain your breath. Tiring, it is. But you’re satisfied with your handiwork. You hop off the stage and try to see the result from the audience seat. Pride fills you as you sigh before determining to do your last two duties before you clock out.
You’re now standing face to face to the barrier between you and the puppets stored, located at the end of the corridor. Whoever designed this theater wasn’t really bright. Who in their right mind would put a crucial aspect of puppeteering equipment at the very end of such a hallway? It should’ve been near the stage.
You huff an amused thought of a show you once watched before turning the doorknob. Faust, if you’re not mistaken.
“This is the puppet room? I didn’t get it wrong, did I?”
This looks more of a prison, sentenced with roles of each door. Jester, knight, butler, priest, chef, maid, wizard, and king. There’s no queen in sight. You recall the instruction and decide to only check the three nearest doors out of the 20 puppets you should report.
Jester’s room is decorated with striped patterns in colors dominated by black, red, and yellow with corners filled with all kinds of acrobat properties and the puppet standing there, hunched over. Knight’s room is neatly kept with various shield decorations with the owner sitting upright. King’s room—is there a reason why there’s letters on the door?—is lavish with proper bedding, lounge, and paintings for—well—a king, but the owner is nowhere to be found.
“Is the king puppet missing? Or there’s no king puppet in the first place?”
You head straight to your room, reporting your observation, and tinkering with the CCTV as you sit back, relax, and—
“What the hell is that?!” you whisper-yelled in disbelief. “Is that a vandal? On the freshly cleaned stage?!”
Nah, you’re not going to let them ruin your hardwork, storming to the theater hall with flashlight and baton on hand, steps mostly fueled by bother and upset. The stage is dark, but you’re not going to let that deter you, moving closer before—
Your ears work a little too well, faster than your eyes could process and let out a scream of fright at the figure popping into existence before your very own eyes without warning. You falter as you feel your soul knock on heaven’s door for a split second. Only then did you realize that the figure has bells attached to his hat, shushing you to be quiet as your brain processes in connecting the dots and trying to calm your racing heart.
He smirks, “What’s wrong?”
Nope. You consider quitting already, but you can’t chicken out right now! Clearing your thoughts as reality hits you like a truck. The warning is real. The puppets are alive. You don’t want to believe it, but you have enough proof to wrap your head around the fact.
The jester snaps his fingers and disappears from your vision. You blink and feel a cold mechanical hand gently caressing your arm—and gives you shivers to your spine. Comparing the size of your and his palm, this puppet is bigger than you are, maybe over two meters.
“A hand so small and soft. Like cotton. Liiiiike a kitten’s paw. A form so small, so easily broken … yet somehow brimming with warmth and movement. A vessel that reacts, trembles, and changes so beautifully.” He locks eyes with you, grinning with something you can’t name. “And that face … always shifting; always telling stories without meaning to. You really are a huuuuuman.”
Yeah. No shit, Sherlock. You already know he’s not a human through the cracks on his face, canine sharp like a carnivore’s prepared strike from his examining gaze. You feel like you’ve bitten more than you could chew when his eyes speak of something you’d call devotion and hope.
“A leader who will give us life once more and lead us towards the lives we were always meant to live.” He’s silent, letting your hand fall to your side as he rises and stands in front of you with a gesture royal people feed on. “And that’s why I am here. To soften the air, to deliver laughter, to carry joy wherever it dares to fade. Now, can you guess who I am?”
A few seconds in and you already know he’s quite a chatterbox. “A jester.”
The jester raises his hands in mock surrender. “Ding ding ding! Correct! Though to be precise, jester is merely my role. Allow me to properly introduce myself to you, sweet human. My name is Jestyn. You may call me Jestyn. Though, some prefer quite a few other variations, I’m afraid. Now that I have offered you my name, allow me, just this once to ask for yours in return.”
You can’t back out from this situation, can you? So you answer and give him yours.
Jestyn’s eyes soften. “[Name] … what a lovely name for such a lovely soul. But tell me, what brings you to this kingdom, I wonder? Are you perhaps carrying out a duty for the crown?”
You’ve familiarized yourself with odd balls of theater before, and you already know that Jestyn perfectly plays and always performs his role as a jester. You’re glad experience taught you things, locking in as an unknown role in this unreal, magical kingdom.
You dust your clothes. “I’m just a security guard. My job is to watch over this kingdom and do a bit of cleaning on the side.”
The truth made him laugh in mock amusement. “Ah, a guardian, isn’t it? Such a noooooble calling. A protector of the kingdom. One who stands firm, fighting on until the very last drop of blood. And yet, regrettably, you cannot become a guardian here. We have a knight who serves as this kingdom’s shield. His name is Knighter. And we have no intention of welcoming another. One knight is more than sufficient.”
Yep. That confirms it. Jestyn and—most likely—the rest of the puppets are part of this kingdom. The roles they’re assigned to is their purpose in life. So that means the maids and butlers too.
“Can’t I be no one, then?”
“Oh no, no. Everyone who comes here must have a role on their own.” You think you already know where this is going. “And the role that currently stands vacant … is the ruler of the kingdom.”
“What happened to the previous king?”
Jestyn’s expression turned grim for a split second and went as fast as it came. “Sadly, he passed away.”
You know there’s more to the surface. “I’m sorry. My condolences.”
He should’ve grieved, but you hear no such emotions from his tone. “It’s alright, my dear. This is simply how life is. People cooooome and go. It is part of a cycle you cannot escape. I believe humans understand that very much. It has been a very long time since the king passed. This kingdom has grown terribly dark; filled with silence, without direction or joy. And I must admit … it has grown rather boring here.” He claps, and your eyes widen as your assumptions start to come true. “But now that I have met such a sweet human before me, why don’t you indulge me in a little game, Your Majesty?”
Jestyn snapped his fingers and in an instant, you found yourself already on the stage, seated upon a plush throne and crown heavy atop your head. You internally sigh. Dealing with inhumans always leads to such occurrences. Guess artists are—mostly—always right.
“One day, beneath the scorching summer sun, the kingdom was struck by trouble once more. The farmers were filled with sorrow as the relentless heat of summer scorched the land.” You have to admit, the phantom Narrator and musicians do a great job of setting the scene. Shame there’s no real audience to watch you ace your role. “Crops withered and failed under the drought, leaving the fields barren. As a result, the farmers suffered great losses, with no harvest left to sell. In the end, the farmers brought their plight before Their Majesty, hoping they might receive aid and relief. Within the kingdom, Their Majesty sat upon their throne. Their expression clouded with confusion when Jestyn the royal jester appeared before them to relay the troubles faced by the farmers.”
Jestyn appears and bow before you with utmost reverence. “Good evening, Your Majesty. What a truuuuuly beautiful day today is. A day just as fitting to tend to the little troubles stirring within the kingdom. Wouldn’t you agree, Your Majesty?”
“Do speak, Jestyn. What are the troubles?”
“As of late, the townsfolk have begun to voice their worries. The harvests have failed, brought low by the relentless drought of the dry season. And as one might expect, such misfortune has left them … quite lacking in means.” Jestyn stands upright and make way. “Please come in, dear guest.”
“A man who worked as a farmer then entered after Jestyn granted the man permission to enter.” So Jestyn’s the one who holds power and control in this kingdom, huh?
You’ve consumed many artworks to know simple clothing worn by commoners in kingdoms. “Greetings, Your Majesty. Please forgive my boldness, but we come before you to humbly seek your aid. Due to the failed harvests, we no longer have the means to replace the crops that withered, nor do we have the funds to meet our daily needs. Thus, we beg you … to grant us your guidance.”
You cross your legs and prop your elbow like how a ruler usually does, the other hand playing with the armchair. Not in arrogance or boredom, but drowning in thoughts to fetch long-term strategy. A position of power isn’t just a title, but a responsibility of many lives. “What of the scholars?”
“We don’t know much about them, but it seems like they’re scrambling to search for possible aids from other nations.”
You turn to Jestyn. “Jestyn, I need you to relay this message to all, especially the scholars. They shall heed my command at the moment's notice.” You clear your throat, “I’ll provide you with funds to trade with other nations for food. The amount needed is not a problem, but stock enough to last at least a month counting today in. Then, request to the scholars to lend you their aid to build water channels. In the meantime, are there any crops that can survive drought?”
The farmer thinks for a moment. “Ah! There are, Your Majesty. Tomatoes, corn, and root crops, for example.”
“Ask the scholars for their aid again to plant crops that can survive the dry season with the seeds taken from the granary. Well, if the food stock is not enough for the next month, I will permit the granary to be open for public use. Once everything’s settled back to normal, fill the granary and barns again with food stock so that we may survive another crisis.”
“Upon hearing the ruler’s decision to provide the farmers with their wise guidance, the farmer’s heart danced with joy.”
“Oh, of course, Your Majesty! That sounds like a good idea. Thank you very much!”
“With a joyful heart, the farmer finally left the palace to deliver the good news.”
You could feel Jestyn’s eyes on you, returning to his previous position with glee. “Oh, Your Majesty. Such a truly wise and kind hearted decision. It is not a bad idea at all. You're so kind, Your Majesty. And kindness is a beautiful thing. But when given without limits, it turns into expectation.”
You squint your eyes. “What are you implying, Jestyn? Do you doubt my decision?”
He tilted his head and smiled. “Of course not, Your Majesty. I would not dare to do it. But are you sure of your decision?”
“May my subjects publicly behead me if the majority of them ever once experience dissatisfaction under my rules. Now, if you have nothing left to say, carry on to your duty.”
Jestyn fell silent for a minute or so before bowing to you. “Of course, Your Majesty. I shall do as you command.”
Oh you definitely bit more than you could chew. The music still plays, which means the performance isn’t over yet. Not until Jestyn is satisfied with your act.
“The day passed slowly within the kingdom. And without Their Majesty realizing it, the time that had once shown nine in the morning had already advanced to one in the afternoon. At that very moment, a formal letter from another kingdom suddenly arrived. Upon learning of this, the butler promptly took the letter and set out to deliver it to Their Majesty.”
Hello, Narrator? You claim to have the butler deliver the parchment scroll to you, but the butler handed it to Jestyn instead. Blasphemy, you thought.
After scanning the content, Jestyn glances at you. “Your Majesty, we have received a most astonishing and rather intriguing request from a neighboring kingdom. In short, they wish to purchase a small piece of land along our border, under the pretense of facilitating trade. Should Your Majesty agree to this arrangement, they are prepared to offer compensation in gold coins, an amount I am quite certain would give Your Majesty a heart attack on the spot~” His eyes focus on you. “So then … what will you do, Your Majesty?”
“I refuse.” You scoff and turn your head in disdain. “Send a letter back immediately.”
“Oh?” Jestyn’s eyes twinkle. “To turn down such generosity ... how admirable. One can only hope our neighbors share Your Majesty’s appreciation for principles. Very well. I shall inform our neighbors of Your Majesty’s will.”
“‘Generosity’ is a mask.” In real life scenarios, that kind of offer is a dangerous double-sided sword that often leads many to their downfall. Choosing what’s right is a decision to mull over. But you’re a monarch, not a tyrant. Money can make something simpler but freedom is non-negotiable.
“And I believe that, for now, the matters Your Majesty was required to resolve have reached the end of today’s program.”
Finally. Before you’re able to let yourself relax, your phone rings. And the ringtone seems to surprise Jestyn too. You know who’s calling and don’t want to deal with it right now. But you can’t run forever, so you swallow the lumps in your throat and pick up the call, hearing another one of the loan shark’s warning and barely survive from their bite. Only for a month.
Jestyn’s hand gently kneads at your shoulders, widely smiling as he knows about your personal matters now. The cat’s out of the bag and Jestyn won’t let it escape. “Your Majesty, your personal matters are the kingdom’s matters. And that makes them my concern as well, as the kingdom’ jester.”
A jester’s task in a kingdom is to entertain and reveal the truth through jests.
Is that concern on his face? “You may tell me your troubles, Your Majesty. After all, I am your most loyal and only jester.”
You want to tell him, you do, so that you’re not the only one who bears the burden. But the debts you owe came from the system’s fault. Being in debt isn’t a shameful decision, but the world tends to make it look like one. “Jestyn. ‘Never doubts themself, is steady as a rock, self-reliant, and always leads their people.’ That is how a monarch should act. I understand your concern, but this is mine alone to bear.”
Silence wrapped itself around the two of you.
You softly smile. “I will ask for the kingdom’s help if I know I can’t solve it before we hit rock bottom. I promise you that much, Jestyn.”
“Oh, Your Majesty. Such noble resolution you have. Though I wonder, have you surrounded yourself with those loyal to you?” Jestyn’s facial expression reveals more of his nonhuman side. “Perhaps, those loyal to you may even help you destroy the ones who have hurt you. Just for you.”
You don’t know whether to be scared or aroused, honestly. Scaroused?
“People change. You know that much, Jestyn. If I could see the change of heart and personal traits, I’d never put the kingdom in danger if not for these very nature.”
The jester puppet chuckled and expressed a wicked grin. “Perhaps, instead of asking what more you can give … you should ask yourself what you are refusing to take.”
You could. But you don’t want to become evil following the steps of the devil like the corrupt governments and elites. Living your life on an honest principle. “I am a monarch, not a cruel tyrant, Jestyn.”
He steps away from you and claps his hands. “Now, allow me to present you with entertainment. You must be tired working all day, yes, Your Majesty? Much as I adore that expression of yours—like a bat awakened in broad daylight—, I would still rather not see you forever wearing a face so utterly devoid of joy.”
You fan yourself, not taking offense to his truth. “I’m quite parched.”
Then, a butler serves you with a water jug and pour the drink as you thank him and down the liquid. If this drink is poisoned, you’ll know who to haunt.
“I shall make you smile once more. Melting the chill of your life with the fire of delight I bring. Allow me~”
After you take your fill, Jestyn snaps his fingers and summons a rectangular object wrapped in a layer of gold and tied neatly with red ribbon as he hands it to you, allowing you to unwrap the object.
“Indeed, Your Majesty. Everyone loves chocolate. Who doesn’t? And it’s not just any ordinary chocolate. I crafted every step of it with all my heart. Carefully, gently, and with the utmost devotion. So I hope you’ll savor my handmade chocolate and not forget the color of its wrapping, Your Majesty~”
Yeah. Halt. You’ll call his bluff. “Jestyn?”
“There’s something in this chocolate, isn’t there? I won’t be fooled.”
At first he softly laughed, then turned manic as he proved your words true. “Ah, so someone didn’t forget the color of the wrapping gift after all. You’re sharper than you look, Your Majesty.”
You chuckle. “I got poisoned a few times, but God didn’t give me permission to die.”
At that, Jestyn’s eyes widen and narrow in silent peeve. “Oh, Your Majesty. I’m not that cruel. It was merely a prank. I would never do something so merciless for the sake of joy.”
“Really.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore. “Please forgive me, Your Majesty. I’ll give you proper entertainment this time. I promise this isn’t another prank.”
You blink thrice at the object he presents you. Red belt and golden chiming bell attached. “A collar?”
“That is correct, Your Majesty.” Jestyn removes his tie and loosens his collar as you sit in pure confusion before understanding his intention when he fastens the collar around his neck and places the leash in your hand. “Please ….”
You had the experience of acting as a sadist, but what? You’re internally conflicted. Are you secretly a sadist? Why do you actually enjoy this? Enjoy his pathetic plea? How did things end up like this?!
“Please ….” Jestyn’s voice grows heavy as you see his cold puppet face burns red and it does something to you. Is he blushing? Hello? Why does he look more excited for this?! “I am yours to command, Your Majesty … do with me whatever you wish.”
You swallow the thick lump in your throat. “J— Jestyn … this ….”
“You may command me to do anything, Your Majesty. Sit. Lie down. Open my mouth …. Whatever you order, I shall obey. Please, relax yourself, Your Majesty. And enjoy yourself with me.” Jestyn’s eyes grow feral when you hold eye contact with him. “I will entertain you.”
“Sit.” And he does that, obediently waiting for your next command. So you decided to tug on his collar as your loyal jester let out a surprised gasp and whimper before you tug him to crawl closer. “Come here.”
The cold metal of your crown helps little to ground you in this surrealistic situation. The living, huge puppet of a jester lowers himself before you with a lovesick gaze. Obediently obey each and every of your commands so far like a … pet. Oh gosh that sounds horrible, but it’s a fitting term!
“I had assumed you were inexperienced, Your Majesty,” he confessed as his gaze slowly morphs into one of a possessive lover, warmth slipping for a moment. “Yet from what I am witnessing right now, you resemble someone who is far more … accustomed to such things. With others ….”
You tug the leash again as Jestyn chokes a gasp. You remember the red ball from earlier and take it out from your pocket as you raise it high, silently commanding him to fetch it. He does as you gesture: biting down the red ball as his nonexistent tail wags happily.
“Are you jealous?” If that’s the case, you can’t tell him about your theatrics experiences in the past. “I’m merely following my instinct.”
Jestyn whimpers as you take the ball gag from his mouth before throwing it behind you. You can’t do this anymore. Exciting as it is, you’re not mean. Feeling a little guilty and sorry, you lift your hand and gently run your fingers through his hood. For a moment, he stiffens, slightly caught off guard by your tender strokes. He visibly relaxes, pupils dilating like a cat’s as he closes his eyes and leans to your touch like he’s been deprived of it for a long time thus seeking more as given the chance. The previous unsettling wide smile he wore turns softer, unguarded, almost vulnerable. You’d bet he’ll purr if he could. Maybe he could? Maybe.
“You are a kind person, Your Majesty.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I had expected you to be rough with me in this situation. But instead, you chose to touch me gently. It feels strange. But I certainly will not complain about that.”
You’re startled when Jestyn lays his head on your lap. The menacing puppet is now reduced to being your … lap dog. You internally snort at the implication.
“This is the first time I’ve ever felt something like this, Your Majesty.”
You want to ask about the previous king but keep your mouth shut. “Felt what?”
“I … don’t know. Strangely, I can’t seem to put it into words. For someone who loves talking, I’m usually never at a loss when it comes to expressing what I feel; what I think. But this … I don’t know. It feels something like happiness, perhaps, yet even that word doesn’t seem quite right.”
“Does the word ‘peace’ describe it enough?”
“Peace …,” he inhales. “Perhaps Your Majesty has cast a spell on me?”
You let out a small laugh at his ridiculous speculation. “Don’t be silly.”
Silence of ease draped over you and him. Not awkward, but enough to make you forget about the rest of the world. Stroking Jestyn’s head like you’d do to a small animal. After several minutes in the same position, Jestyn finally stands up and snaps his fingers. In an instant, his collar and leash vanishes.
“I believe your time in this kingdom has now come to an end.”
You blink and look at your watch. “Oh … my shift is over.”
Maybe Jestyn senses your inner conflict of reluctance and presses a cold kiss on your back hand that makes your heart jolt in surprise. “Then, until we meet again, sweet human ….”
And he disappeared into the darkness.
You’re not leaving the building with nothing. Recalling extraordinary memories that lingers in your mind as you blend yourself in the crowd. If you could, you’d turn back time to tell your younger self; the one who took the “Soldier, Poet, King” quiz and answer the question with your newfound experience.
Maybe you’ve always been destined to become kings because kings want to become poets. Strives for freedom to feel alive and embrace your emotions but chained down with logical decisions, responsibilities, and expectations. And to fight for your freedom, you create art as a pathway to accomplishment only you can seam and stitch to life.
You turn to the building before finally leaving.
Maybe you could be a poet that rules over others, draping a cape of wild imagination on your shoulders and laying down creativity as your pristine, marble floor for others to enjoy.
Jestyn already expects your arrival before you know it yourself. Call it a jester’s intuition, if you will. Seconds passed … then hours … days … weeks … months …. It has been so very long since all of that faded away.
Years of anticipation made him restless, you see.
He and the others used to live in a kingdom so lively, magnificent, and full of joy. A kingdom that was once led by a ruler who guided them all towards their purpose of life. A kingdom filled with wise choices, decisive commands, and laughter of His Majesty’s subjects. Abandoned and left with their silence, confusion, and despair. Without a proper ruler, they didn't know what to do and where to go, clinging to the hope that someday, someone will rise upon the throne and guide them all. Again.
Dream and hope they did and, fate wills it, their efforts weren’t in vain.
Perhaps none dared enough to come forth and accept the challenge before you. Perhaps Jestyn didn’t like any and eliminated them all before you. Perhaps he’s been waiting to commit his soul and body just for you. And when you do grace your presence, Jestyn was ecstatic, hardly able to calm himself and mask his cluttered joints from the first step you land on the kingdom. Slithering away from his room to stalk you and watch your mesmerizing performance on your throne from the dark seat you couldn’t see by your peripheral vision.
Oh, Your Majesty. You turn such mundane chores the maids did into a private concert only for him to enjoy like he’s the royal being served luxury on a silver platter. The hum, the song, the tune. Shivers run down Jestyn’s nonexistent spine like he’s a sailor willingly lost to your hypnosis and he’s addicted to hearing more, huffing and puffing with infatuated and longing eyes. Your magic is much exceptional than of Wizzy’s own might, enchanting him with the haunting melody you sung as his cold shell turns warm from your compassionate care of your kingdom like you always belong there and never left. Barely a day of knowing you, and he’s sure he doesn’t want you to leave. Ever.
Lure you out he did. Showing his silhouette on the CCTV when the camera blinks. He’s sure you’re going to fetch him. He wonders about you. Are you going to be a rabbit, a lion, or a wolf when the crown chooses you? No matter. Nobody will interrupt your meeting with him as every vandals and naughty teenagers with foolish audacity had been personally dealt with by Knighter—the said knight idly stayed in his room after a nice jest he gave.
Do forgive him, Your Majesty, but this jester might rip you apart if he couldn’t control himself. His playful nature is just the surface of his more beastly demeanor, carefully crafted to make your brain unable to forget him and leave you craving more—like you did him. Supple soft skin of a very mortal creature. Shriek of fright from a defenseless prey. Faux courage to make you lift your chin up. Very human. He almost pounced on you had he not regained himself.
He wants to know more about you. Your backstory. Your upbringing. Your habits. Your likes and dislikes. Your puzzle pieces of complex personality. All your weal. All your woes. All your troubles. He’s quite the snooper; already planning on infiltrating your humble space he could never call a room. Unsuitable. Miserable. You deserve more and the rest of the kingdom must agree with him. Worry not, the previous king’s lavish chamber will be yours soon enough.
Your Majesty, say the word to him and Jestyn will gladly obliterate your enemies, collecting each of their heads for him to display on the shelves. What he wouldn’t do for His Monarch? He was barely able to compose himself when that vermin dared to interrupt his session of quality time with you, almost snatched your phone and crushed it to pieces. Don’t you worry about your pretty little head. He will get his hand on those fools and make sure it’s going to be hell on earth for them.
Forget them, Your Majesty, please keep your eyes on mine. He’ll take care of them behind the scenes after he tracked them down at once. He’ll tell you sweet lies and more for that. Do you want him to be your good little pet? He’s all yours. That color of shock and surprise suits you well. And when you treated him with harsh tugs then healed him with gentle strokes? Jestyn almost feels like he’s ascended to cloud nine.
He doesn’t need to physically go there when you bring heaven with your fingertips.
Jestyn truthfully glared at your watch when your shift ends. Your absence stripped him away from his salvation. What can a beast do when his source of joy disappears? That’s the reason why he dared searching and observing your sleeping, fragile form he could snap in two whenever he wanted. But of course he’s not going to do that to His Monarch.
As long as you’re not aware, it’s okay, right, Your Majesty?
“You’ve made me so unbearably happy. You’ll come again tonight, won’t you?”
Simply admiring you from afar isn’t enough.
“Of course you will. There’s so many things we can do together. I simply couldn’t bear it if you didn’t. I’ll teach you everything you wanted to know until your hands move exactly the way mine do. Then I’ll show you magic tricks … one I promise will steal your breath away.”
Jestyn almost intertwines his fingers with yours.
“Oh, and there’s so many puppets waiting for you to meet … to arrange … to belong where you want them … and then ….”
Jestyn felt at peace with you.
“We can dine together, sleep together, sing together, dance together … always together … and then … and then ….”
Your voice haunts him in his wake and dreams.
“Oh sweet tart and cream, there are so simply too many things we could do that I hardly know where to begin … as long as you never leave my side.”
Jestyn is not sure he’s himself or his beastly side.
“Truly … what have you done to me, Your Majesty … I’m beginning to believe you’re a sorcerer of terrifying power. Even Wizzy, the royal mage, couldn’t twist a heart like this ….”
He’s not going to complain about being lesser than a mortal.
“I feel as though I’ve been caught in your web … wrapped tightly, unable to escape … simply waiting to be devoured by you ….”
Take his everything, please, Your Majesty.
“I scarcely recognize myself anymore, Your Majesty … but somehow, I don’t wish to go back.”
If losing himself means to always be by your side, then so be it.
“The kingdom needs you … I need you.”
He’s lying, but he’s a jester.
“No. I want you … I crave you … My Monarch, [Name] ….”
Wizzy must be initiating his magic by now.
“I’ve never felt anything this overwhelming before … I want to stay by your side, watch you breathe, carve your image into my mind, touch you … and perhaps … sink even deeper into you, until there’s nothing left but us ….”
Control yourself, Jestyn.
“Ah— no, no, no. How improper of me. A mere jester touching his ruler so boldly … but if you were to grant me permission, I would cherish every inch of you with the utmost devotion.”
As if he’s been proper all this time.
“Oh, My Monarch. I can hardly endure the wait to see you again … I wish time would rush forward … and yet freeze completely when I am with you. If only time could bend itself. Just for you.”
Wizzy’s summoning circle forcefully pulls him back to the kingdom.
“I’ll take my leave now, My Monarch … may your dreams be filled with me … [Name].”
And just like that, you’ve lost yourself and your personal space to the royal jester while you’re sleeping soundly none the wiser of such a tragicomedy.
Yes I'm not kidding when I say I write 15 pages of this fic—
