For the WIP meme may I meet Jongle please and thank you
omggggg my BOYYYYYY i think about him constantly
okay so Jongle is a sort of pseudo-medieval figure, a blend between a classic court jester and a troubadour. he's also hot shit: full errol flynn vibes. he's got a fancy moustache and a recorder and he plays the hottest cansos on it for the court.
there's also a subplot where he is a member of the union of troubadours, trovaires, jongleurs and jesters, but they don't really acheive much because there's too much leftist infighting. the travelling musicians hate the jesters because they think they're corporate hacks; the jesters hate the travelling musicians because they never show up to meetings.
there's a lot of tension between jongle and the king (timothy) because every time the king tries to get him to play at another banquet (because he's obsessed with jongle) (because of how hot and silly he is) jongle is like... but sir my contract says i can only do scheduled overtime if i've been booked 3 weeks in advance -- or the king will try to take him on hunting trips where they share a horse and spend the whole time clutched to one another, and jongle will be like, oh but sir if i'm asked to go on a work outing i've got to have transport provided
it's very silly.
it's GOING to be a romance obviously and i want to finish it soooo badly but i'm in my fallow period and i've barely been writing anything recently.
here's a snippet:
“I just…” the king trailed off. “I just feel like we don’t really know each other.”
Jongle paused. “Your majesty.”
“She’s from France, Jongle. France! I don’t even speak French!”
This was irrelevant, of course, as the queen spoke perfect English. Jongle rubbed the cleaning cloth over the mouthpiece of his recorder and tried to think of something comforting to say. “I’m not an expert, but I’m told that marriage is about communication,” he tried. “Perhaps you could talk to her about her interests. Sir.”
“Pfft,” the king scoffed, reclining in his chair and kicking his feet out. “Pfft! She doesn’t have interests! She just sits in her room and does embroidery. Pfft.”
Jongle did his best to control his expression, and focussed on the task at hand. He pushed the cloth into the hole at the bottom of his recorder. It was completely wet with spit after his performance, and if he let it dry out it would undoubtedly get covered in mould and ruined, as had happened to many of his previous instruments. “Is embroidery an interest? Sir?”
“How would I know,” the king said sullenly. “Women.” He jerked up. “You must be a hit with women, Jongle –”
“I’m really not –”
“– why don’t you talk to her for me?” He frowned. “Of course you are, look at you.”
“What would I talk to her about?” Jongle said desperately. He pulled the cloth out and shoved it in his pocket, dropping his recorder onto a plush velvet pouffe. “I’m just a guy, I’m not even – I mean, I don't really -”
The king interrupted him. “Embroidery. It’s all we have. If you don’t know anything about it, learn. How hard can it be? It's just putting thread in fabric.”
Jongle wilted. “Yes, your majesty.”
“Stop looking so pathetic,” the king said, and nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. “Also, you’re not allowed to use any of this in any of your routines, you hear me?”
“I’m off the clock, sir.”
“Well,” the king blustered. “Alright then,” he said. “Do you want to take off your hat?”
“Thank you, sir,” Jongle said, and took it off with a shimmer of bells. He set it down next to his recorder. Then, for a lack of anything else to do, he sat down.
Carefully, and looking in the opposite direction, the king said, “I think, don’t you, if you’re off the clock, you could probably drop the ‘sir’.”
“I –” Jongle faltered. “Okay. What should I…?”
“Timothy.” The king twisted back to look at him. “Yes?”
“Okay,” Jongle said again. And then, heart pounding, he said it. “Timothy.”
At this, the king’s expression was indecipherable. But then, Jongle thought, I am a rather stupid man.
“And you?” the king asked. “Your name?”
“I am Jongle, son of Jingle,” Jongle said. “I have no other name.”
