Royalty!Reader is a rather unfortunate soul when it comes to love. Your Father insists that you find someone proper, worthy of your rank, someone who will carry your family’s legacy. You’ve no interest in these diplomatic affairs. You wish you could allow yourself to fall in love with someone the way you often read in books.
Moreover, you’re plagued by a particular kind of misfortune, one that the servants often gossip about: all your arranged marriages have ended in death or mysterious disappearances. No suitor has made it to the altar, vanishing without exception days before the ceremony. The offers for your hand are beginning to dwindle, and your Father is in despair.
‘What fault have I in this nonsense,’ you whine to your beloved jester, recalling the latest scolding. The masked man strokes your hair with unmatched gentleness, whispering soothing words. He’s certain the King will eventually leave you alone.
Yandere!Jester masterfully removes any obstacle in the way of your affections. From poisoned tea, to a slippery last step of the tall staircase, no suitor has lived to tell the tale of his wrath and envy. There is no one else out there for you, and - soon enough - the King will have no choice but agree to this truth.
He glances at the throne with a peculiar glimmer in his eye. Even if his Highness refuses, what’s another kingdom burned to ashes? He has no need for anything else. His hold on the back of your neck tightens, and you wince.
Synopsis: The queen who can't smile; your unofficial title, it seems, has gained the attention of a sly jester. His intentions in gaining your trust a selfish whirlwind of self preservation and obsessive love.
Content Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, smut, p in v, gore, violence, sort of ntr, sort of kind of voyeurism if you squint really really hard, typical degenerate stuff, yandere, raw af (wrap it y'all)
8k words, a bit of a slow burn, no mentions of hair, skin color, or specific body type
-
You never laughed, hardly ever cracking so much as a smile.
On your wedding day, perhaps you should have. At the very least for your royal husband or even your newfound subjects. The peasants outside your carriage seemed far more excited on this day than you. Your husband, Neverfelle's most ardent king, seemed far too taken with you to care much for your own feelings.
No matter how much you detested the arrangement, he held power over your noble house as he does all the others. A young, beautiful bride to be; your shining skin and precious eyes captivated the decrepit man. You wished terribly to see him in the same light. His wrinkled skin and aged voice only proved to make your scowl deepen. The kiss you shared in the old church, after whispers of vows and promises of forever, was your first - and you hoped last.
The banquet was just as boring.
You sat beside the king, hand resting at your cheek to keep you from sleeping through the festivities. Throughout the ballroom hazes of pinks and blues and violets - the new fashion trends - circled each other, young ladies and gentlemen dancing to celebrate the union. Servants scurried back and forth, attempting to appease any of the drunkards causing a mishap. You audibly sighed.
"My queen, you mustn't be so downcast." Your husband scolded, sliding a finger across your face to drop your hand.
The corners of your eyes pierced into him, head still facing the ballroom so as to not publicly offend the man. You wanted to. But you figured it is better to not be ostracized by your own subjects. Should he pass on, which you imagined is very soon no doubt, you wanted to at least keep the power this whole ordeal brought.
"You, servant," A stout man quickly kneeled at the king's feet, "Bring me the jester. My queen is in need of some humor!" He bellowed out an irritating laugh.
He knew you never smiled, not quite understanding it but your beauty seemed to compensate for your lack of a pleasant personality anyway, as he described it.
You weren't sure of why you never smiled yourself, if you were honest.
Some things were pleasant, and some things were funny, and many things brought you joy - like the pastries your chef made with little characters drawn with icing, or the bunnies that scurried around your garden, or the trouble your siblings constantly found themselves in. Yet, you always approached these situations with a neutral expression; something akin to a frown.
The jester's jokes would be no different.
You had never seen one in person. Your noble house was wealthy, though only kings had jesters.
There was a silence in the ballroom as the crowd dispersed, only being broken by the soft jingling of a few bells. The mask was the first thing you saw. Perhaps French or Italian? It carried a deepened frown, mirroring your own. A masquerade or theatre mask, you weren't quite sure. You rarely studied beyond basic cultural histories.
Black diamonds followed the curvature of the bottom of the mask's eyes. A three pointed hat and a black and red motley matching as he sauntered in and gave a bow.
Among all the smiles and laughs, Tobias immediately noticed your scowling face. The way your eyebrows furrowed and cheeks puffed out was endearing, a sentiment he briefly thought before scrutinizing your lovely features. So, this is our new queen, he pondered.
"My my, ladies and gentlemen, it seems I've missed most of the party!" He began, grabbing three balls from gods knows where and juggling. The people awed at the party trick, and you'd be lying if it weren't entertaining to some extent. "Shall we toast in honor of our King and newly wed Queen?!" He exclaimed, earning cheers, even from the king himself. The servants brought you both your own cups of wine.
You did not wait and simply chugged yours until it emptied.
He grabbed a bottle and raised it, a glass cup in his other hand. He poured into his cup, except the contents did not spill. The crowd laughed at the cheap magic trick.
"Oh forgive me! It seems I poured the wine into the wrong cup!" Tobias chuckled, pointing to the cup in your hand. When you looked down, yours had been refilled.
You scoffed.
His eyes narrowed, likely the only one noticing your detest for his little show.
By the end of his act, the King swiftly sent him away.
Not once did you so much as giggle! Half of the jokes were targeted at and for you, and you couldn't even smile!
Tobias never cared for being a jester, he was a poor street rat with nothing but his wits about him in terrible need of a job. When the king found interest in him, he simply obeyed like a good peasant and put on the ridiculous costume.
However, when the old man croaks - and he, too, had no doubt it would be soon - Tobias's fate would be left in your hands. And he would be damned if the miserable queen is what will make him a beggar again.
From then on, he vowed to prove to you his usefulness. He watched you, studying your little quirks and habits. What he once thought was a dark queen, slowly transformed into a quiet fondness for you.
Tobias thought you would be harsh and cruel, perhaps even sad or pitiful. Instead, he found a great deal of compassion from you.
You helped the servants clean and cook, and are diligent in your duties as Queen. The gardens seemed to be your favorite place however; often dirtying your gowns by sitting in the grass and watching the flowers and little animals scurry about.
It was one such day he was given the pleasure of speaking with you.
Watching, waiting, as he normally did behind a tree. You noticed the soft jingle of the familiar bells, raising your head after plucking a dying rose.
"Jester, come on out." You called, attempting to find where the sound originated.
He laughed, stumbling towards you rather awkwardly. "My precious queen!" He greeted.
"You have been spying on me," you narrowed your eyes at him.
Tobias sweatdropped. "Only out of interest, your highness."
"Interest?"
"You do not laugh at my tricks."
"Perhaps your tricks do not deserve my laughing," you quipped back immediately.
Tobias laughed in response, genuine and polite. You enjoyed the sound far more than the one of your husband.
"I only aim to please." He responded, bowing and then plopping down beside you on the grass.
"You aim for something, that is true. I'm just unsure of what it is," you raised a brow, twirling the rose between your fingers as you carefully removed the thorns from its stem.
"You hardly smile." He spoke honestly.
"Your position as jester does not make you immune to my wrath." You warned.
"It does, actually." He chuckled bitterly.
It was true, to some extent. Jesters are employed not only to entertain, but to provide brutal honesty to the royals in ways that others are far too scared to say. If you wanted him, in all your cruelness, hanged for his words, you would be met with a world of legal troubles.
It does not mean he can't be fired however.
Despite not being able to see his face, you could almost see the gears turning in his head.
"That was a joke," you admitted, frown still etched perfectly against your lips.
A silence and then a beat, and Tobias felt a heat raise to his cheeks. It was funny, slightly.
But the fact that you made a joke for him was the sweetest irony. He practically reveled in it.
You placed the rose in the crevice between his mask and ear, admiring the intricate details of Tobias's attire. "It may be humiliating for you to be dressed like this." You began, muttering mostly to yourself. "Many men would rather die, I'm sure. But I like it."
It was another sly attempt at a joke.
Or rather, a truth disguised as a joke.
You were trying so hard to make him laugh, to ease him in the way that he eases everyone else. Your emotionless state was not a reflection of your personality - if anything, you seemed to hold too much emotion. A body of sweetness that Tobias could feel himself itching to take a bite out of. It became clear to him then... your humor, dry and hidden, held triple the depth and beauty that his own person could never replicate.
You are an emotional being with a face designed to hide it.
And gods, he now wanted nothing more than to uncover every little facet.
-
From that day on, Tobias began seeking you out during your little garden visits. Sometimes hiding and feeling content with just watching you, other times joining under the guise of bringing you a snack or tea.
Slowly, in little pieces, you began confiding in him, and he in you.
"I am ashamed, your highness." He admitted rather bashfully.
Your ears perked at his words. "Hm? Of what?"
He breathed in and then out slowly, steadying his mind knowing he could lose the friendship he's built with you. "I did not initially approach you with innocent intentions." His gloved finger dug into the ground, the bells chiming annoyingly - at least to him. "I wanted-"
You cut him off, sucking in a breath. "I know."
"You know?" He cocked his head to the side.
"I wasn't enjoying your shows. You were scared." When Tobias didn't respond, you figured it would be alright to continue speaking. "When the king is too old to make decisions, I will be tasked to decide for him." You plucked a rose, this time alive, and began removing the thorns. "If your humor and wits are useless to me, then I would have no reason to employ you."
He cast his gaze down, the mask obstructing his view. "Yes. I suppose you are right."
"I will not relieve you of your position, little jester." You whispered, tucking the rose in that familiar little spot.
The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end, a blush creeping to the tips of his ears as he felt himself heat up at the pet name you've given him.
Nobles are all rich snobs, and you are no exception. So why the hell is such a condescending comment making him melt?
"Before this, what did you do?" You questioned.
"Before... my employment here?" You nodded in response. Tobias let his head fall back and you could see his adam's apple bob. You gulped, disliking the thoughts beginning to run rampant within your head. "I was an orphan. A street rat, really. Stealing and begging for scraps."
"A difficult life." You agreed.
"Yes, I suppose to a sheltered noblewoman it may seem so."
You almost felt offense if it weren't for the teasing tone in his voice.
He continued, "His majesty saw me begging one evening and took pity. Asked me a few questions and I made a joke at his expense."
You hummed. "He may have had your tongue for that."
"But he didn't," Tobias sighed. "Sometimes I wish he had."
"And so he employed you?" You brought your knees to your chest, the gown you sported wrinkling and folding into itself.
"He found use in me. I suppose that is all any of us can hope for." Tobias shrugged.
You studied his form for a few moments.
"You detest the king." You pointed out, earning an exasperated cough from the jester.
"That is no better than blasphemy, your majesty!"
You sighed, brows furrowing. "He is not here to listen."
The pout on your face squeezed at Tobias's chest, your expression mirroring the one you sported on the day he first met you.
"You can deepen your frown but you can't raise it." He noted, more so contemplating.
"I am strange."
"You are lovely, my precious queen."
You plucked Tobias's hat from his head, earning a small gasp from him as you began playing with the fabric.
"My husband does not speak to me like you do. He says 'my queen' or 'my wife...', Never sweet or precious, like how you so often say."
"He is a fool."
"Says the fool."
Tobias let out a hearty laugh. "You are the only noblewoman to bring me such joy."
You stopped playing with his hat and looked at him, a serious expression adorning your features. "Do women of lower status bring you more joy?"
Tobias looked almost taken aback by your accusation. Was this jealousy? Or offense? Perhaps a mixture of both?
Before he could conjure a proper response, one of your maids appeared before you.
"My lady! The king is expecting you for dinner, please make haste! We must prepare your evening gown."
You placed the jester's hat back atop his head.
"Good day, sweet jester."
-
That night, Tobias could not remove the constant thought of you from his head. Each time he would close his eyes, all he could see is the furrowing of your eyebrows, the way your nose scrunched when he made a stupid joke, and the lines of your body beneath your gown. It was getting ridiculous.
He knew better. You are not a potential lover, even the mere thought of pining for you from afar could lead him to a bitter end under a guillotine. You are married to an old bat who has not the will or performance to even bed you.
He wondered, faintly, if you had those kinds of needs. Tobias knew you wouldn't be satisfied with the king even if he could perform.
Would I... make her feel good? He pondered, before the shame quickly rose into a reddened heat at the base of his chest. He sat up in his bed, then quickly shuffling out of the covers and standing.
Fresh air. Surely, that is all he needs to straighten his mind and continue resting.
The servant's quarters are locked in at night, entrance to the main castle halls forbidden until morning chores begin. However, they leave the back doors open for the stables.
Tobias often took late night walks around the castle grounds.
And he wasn't alone in this either. Many of the maids would sneak off to meet with lovers or find respite in the town's late night markets. Perhaps in knowing this, he shouldn't have been surprised when he saw you out and about; quietly walking alongside your maid with gentle sniffles and what he swears are tears coating your cheeks.
You were in nothing but a nightgown and a shawl, your maid trailing behind you in a similar outfit. Did you wake her just for this?
Selfish little queen.
"Perhaps he will change his mind, my lady." Your maid encouraged.
You shook your head as you both took rest at a stone seating within the familiar gardens. Tobias knew better than to eavesdrop, he prides himself in being a gentleman of a fool - or is it a fool of a gentleman?
"He will not. He seemed rather invigorated, actually," you replied, the trembling in your voice not going unnoticed.
Tobias, against all of his better judgements, crouched to heed your conversation - quite the nasty habit he has acquired.
"Surely, he cannot perform..." The maid's voice wavered, as though she knew one gossiping ear listening and she'd be done for.
You shrugged before slumping your shoulders forward. "It seems he is capable. The king is desperate for an heir and it is my duty to provide."
Tobias felt his blood run cold.
An heir? Does that mean...
"I knew it would come to be eventually. My husband spoke of children a number of times during the engagement." You paused, looking to your maid directly. "It was foolish of me to believe we would not consummate."
The maid held a guilty expression, as though you had caught her doing something wrong. She let out a nervous laugh.
Tobias recalled the maid's face before, slipping in and out of the kitchen during dinners. He narrowed his eyes at her.
Sleeping pills, huh? What a protective maid.
Your own eyes seemed to trail out, peaking at the very corner of your vision and catching Tobias in the middle of his spying act. The intensity of your gaze left him weak, and he wondered if you could recognize him without his mask and motley. You had never seen his face, he realized, as a growing onset of insecurity seemed to settle.
You whispered something to your maid, inaudible by Tobias's ears. She nodded, bowing and scurrying off with a meticulous silence that reminded you of a cat. You turned back in your seat, comfortably resting as you awaited for Tobias to move.
"May I, my queen?" He questioned.
You only nodded.
Before he could even fully sit, you spoke up. "Will you drop the endearing names now that I am to bed a king?"
There was an air of confusion and a beat before he realized he had not given you your usual pet names.
"Apologies, my precious queen." He bowed, rigid and awkward.
"I do not mean to force you," you said.
"It is not force."
"It feels like it."
"I am just a little out of sorts." Tobias turned to face you properly, finally able to fully engross himself in your features without the mask to obstruct the view. You seemed to be doing the same, at last getting to see the face behind all the jokes and conversations. "Am I as handsome as you expected?" Tobias teased.
"Quite," you agreed.
He sweatdropped. "Was that sarcasm?"
"Not at all. You are handsome." You stated rather boldly. "And my husband is not."
Tobias let a moment pass, wondering if his next words would cause you offense. He supposed your relationship has grown well passed the need for such worries. "And you must bed him."
You nodded, another tear slipping the confines of your eye. "Regrettably so."
"Regrettably." Tobias repeated, looking up at the stars that decorated the darkened sky.
You, on the other hand, could only stare dejectedly at your little jester. Your fingers trailed slowly, almost painfully, up his arm and to his shoulder before landing at his neck, poking at his neck and swiping at the veins. You could feel his pulse quicken and the gulping in his throat as he swallowed thickly.
You then moved your hand to his face, forcing him to look at you as you placed your thumb on his bottom lip and pressed.
"I could let you have me, right now." You muttered. "Use you for my own selfish desires and then crawl into the king's bed tomorrow feeling satisfied." You paused. "I would feel so satisfied."
"That is-"
You cut Tobias off. "I know."
Your hand fell at your side once again.
"You do that too much." Tobias sneered, quiet at first but his voice grew. Your eyes widened.
"Hm?" Was all you could squeak out.
"You never let me finish what I say." He grabbed at the shawl covering you, removing it and tossing the fabric to the side so he could grip your bare shoulder properly. "You assume and assume and assume. A selfish woman." He scolded.
"I only-"
The words could barely sound before he was speaking over you once again. "And what if I was giving you permission? What if I was about to tell you about how all I want to do is rip these clothes from your body and ravage you? And then let you scurry off to that senile old king just so you can crave me once again?" His chest heaved up and down; all the pent up resentment, anger, and frustration spilling out in a heated storm.
Tobias brought his lips to the shell of your ear, an arm finding its way around your waist and pulling you flush against his torso. "I have wanted nothing more than to see you squirm beneath me, little queen."
You felt a chill go up your spine, a heaviness in your stomach that made you want to push away and pull in all at the same time.
"I am not unfaithful." You spoke, earning an inquisitive frown from Tobias.
He nipped at your earlobe gently before leaning back, arm still laying flat against your waist.
"Then why seek me out?"
You raised a brow. "I never did."
You were right. Not once did you look for Tobias. Not once did you search for him in any of the places that he frequented. It was always him fumbling about in the gardens and banquets vying for your attention. The feeling of embarrassment burned, a bitter taste left at the tip of his tongue as he forced himself to bite back a response.
"I was happy, though," you began, his spirits lifting momentarily, "when you would come to me. I grew bored of the gardens, in truth, but I wanted you to continue sitting with me."
"I feel rather used," Tobias let go of your waist.
"Selfish queen." You reminded him, a teasing hint in your voice that contrasted that familiar frown. "Perhaps, in another life you and I could have something more tangible."
"Something intimate?" He asked.
You nodded. "I detest my husband, but he is not evil."
"Did you choose this marriage?" Tobias reminded you. A man that cannot ask for permission is an evil man, at minimum.
You exhaled shortly. "I am trying to find the positive in the negative, little jester. Let my delusions comfort me."
He laughed; bitterly, with resentment. "You would force to believe a fallacy, rather than take what is real and in front of you?"
Tobias's question was rhetorical, though you couldn't help yourself from responding.
"To be unfaithful with you means I can be unfaithful to you."
He chuckled - deep and brooding. There was a rumble in his throat as he let his finger trace the expanse of your neck before dropping it at his side once again. He did not respond, too afraid, too angry. Tobias knew better than the lousy king. He knew to keep you shackled to him he needed to be the best - a romantic, a soft and endearing creature with a roughness you would likely appreciate in bed. You like pathetic men with a fire in their eyes - he saw that. He saw you.
Your maid returned, mumbling a my lady as she urged you to return to your chambers. Perhaps it was the dreary conversation, but Tobias could not help glaring daggers into the maid. If he were king, he could send her off to clean some offhanded wing in the castle, and he could demand from his beautiful wife a chaste kiss, or a lingering touch, or more.
As you lifted to return, Tobias clasped a rough hand around your wrist, turning you to him. "When his majesty is... no longer... Will you take me? As yours?" His big, round eyes fluttered up at you, lashes long and wet from what could have been tears - when had he cried?
Your frown deepened, almost a scowl but far too soft to truly be one. Soft for him, he noted.
"Goodnight, little jester." You curtseyed and disappeared once again, leaving Tobias craving for something he knows is out of reach.
Tomorrow, you would bed the king and be his, entirely, eternally. Your relationship with your court jester would become nothing more than a whisper in the wind - of pleasantries and garden visits.
He balled his hands into fists, knuckles white from the pressure as he wracked his brain for anything that could save you both from a life of regrets. In doing so, your maid had returned at his side, a rather angry look displayed on her features.
"You'll get her majesty in trouble." She scolded, sitting beside Tobias.
"For what?" He muttered, already tired of speaking with her.
"For entertaining you!" She sighed. "If the king finds out, he will have both your heads."
"I should have his in return," Tobias joked.
Only the silence that followed after seemed to turn this joke into something more. Perhaps hope, or something far less tangible? The maid felt it as well, the way the air changed. The feeling of something stirring.
"I should like to have his head." He contemplated, tapping at the stone seating with a long index finger. The maid's expression contorted to one of concern.
"Tobias, surely you jest." In all her brazen attempts at comforting him, Tobias could only feel a deep seated anger for the use of his name - a title extended only to those close with him, which came few and far between.
He grabbed at the maid's face, pulling her closer, cheeks squished as he dug into her skin. "Tomorrow, the Queen is to bed her filthy husband." The maid nodded, as though her agreement could save her from this strange predicament. "No no," Tobias pondered, "She will bed me." His words softened into whispers, only audible by the maid and the jester, himself.
"But that's not-"
Tobias squeezed harder, pulling the maid even closer and forcing blood to draw from her skin. "Your sleeping pills. Ensure the king takes them in the evening."
"But, her majesty seemed unhappy that I had-"
"Her majesty knows not what is best for her." Tobias chided, saying all but his claim unto you. "Bring her to his chambers as planned. Do this, and I will reward you with keeping your life."
After one last threatening squeeze, Tobias released the maid. Her body quivered but she nodded nonetheless, standing and curtseying before scurrying off to make sense of the strange predicament she seems to have found herself in.
Tobias, on the other hand, was invigorated. A newfound confidence lurking beneath his skin and making his hair stand on end.
-
That following night, the plan had begun smoothly. Tobias, dressed in his motley and jester's hat, accompanied the maid to the king's chambers.
"Dinner and a show?" Bellowed out the king with a coughing fit of laughter. "How jovial! My staff is as excited as I am today, it seems."
Tobias sneered at the implication. As if any man would be happy to see the woman he loves fall into the arms of a disgusting pig.
The king was quick to drink up the tea, and Tobias realized just how simple his job would be. The maid disappeared, and Tobias was left to perform his little circus act. After only a few moments, the king's eyelids waned as he fought off sleep.
"Are you tired, your majesty?" Tobias questioned, ceasing his juggling and crouching at the king's knees. He let his head rest against the old man's thighs, humming.
"Just a bit," he reassured. "I must stay awake to receive my bride."
Tobias whistled. "And if I were to take her instead? Here? In front of you?"
The king, in all his strange sensations, scoffed. "Nonsense. What... absolute insolence." His words slurred, quiet then loud then quiet once again.
"I could fuck her sweet cunt right here, while your brittle bones watch." Tobias poked at the king's clothed leg, relishing in how utterly stupid he has made himself simply for drinking some tea.
The king mumbled something, likely insulting, likely damning, and fell to sleep, snores echoing through the room.
"Perfect." Tobias chortled, a sly grin spreading from ear to ear.
Taking the king by the shoulders, he wrapped him in one of the comforters spread across his bed, ensuring his limbs and mouth are tied to prevent any interruptions in the late evening. Tobias pondered, humming a longer tune as he examined the room carefully. The dresser would be fitting, perhaps. Large enough to house the man and with enough divide in the wood to give the king a perfect view.
Shrugging, he skipped along to shove the king's body inside, grabbing a butter knife from the tea tray along the way.
Tobias looked up at the king, an almost religious implication as he brought the knife forward and into his stomach. Blood seeped from the fabrics, pooling at an agonizingly slow pace. Just enough to ensure he would wake up and feel the burning, but be too enamored in fighting off his constraints to truly notice.
Shutting the dresser doors, he placed a rod in between the handles, testing their strength by pushing and pulling before letting out a satisfied whistle.
Now all he had to do was wait.
You found the night to be much less exciting. You did not eat your dinner, and instead allowed your maid to prep you for the evening's events. Your nightgown was a flimsy fabric, meant to cover your lingerie while you made your way to the king's chambers.
A small part of you regretted the previous evening's argument with your jester. A larger part of you wished it were his room you'd be attending.
If your prayers had been answered, how would you react?
Upon entering, a chill trailed up your arms and spine. It was cold, freezing almost. And your king's boisterous voice had not yet broken the silence save for some rustling in the bed. Your footsteps were nimble and quiet as you approached, the fabric draped across the frame covering what you imagined would be your nude husband.
When you lifted the curtain, you were not greeted with the man you wished forever to not see, but your jester; his sleeping form a sudden comfort as he shifted.
"What are you doing here?" You questioned, stepping back and allowing the curtain to fall once again.
Tobias sat up, sniffling and confused - or rather feigned confusion.
"I was called here to perform for his majesty," he mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eye. "He had not arrived and the bed looked far too soft to not lay in."
Behind the curtain's sheerness, he could see your silhouette, the curves of your body bare and present and causing an immediate strain in his pants that he seemed to curse himself for. If you see it, you'll deem him a pervert.
"Well," you started, "He is not here so you must return to the servant's quarters. At once."
Your face was red and your arms did little to cover yourself.
"Is that right?" He uttered. "Why not join me?"
"Join.. Join you?!" You jeered. "I am not a loose woman! I am your queen!" Your anger boiled, forgetting yourself as you swung the curtains to the side and grabbed at the jester's arm, pulling him off the bed. "How dare you make such a comment?"
Tobias stopped, body splayed at just the tip of the bed before turning his head behind himself. "I meant no disrespect, my sweet queen. I only meant..."
On the bed, the king's tray was placed atop a pillow, scones and cookies and a small slice of cake sat undisturbed.
Tobias chuckled. "I only meant for us to share a snack while we await your dear husband."
"Do you think I am a fool?" You were in shock. This felt contrived - like he had planned to catch you off guard and attempt to coax you with sweet treats and his handsome gaze.
Your maid, whom had been standing in the corner with a respectful silence spoke up, nerves ever present in her voice.
"My lady, it is not improper of you to share a meal while you wait," she reminded you, hand pointing towards the tray. "I'm sure his majesty will arrive shortly."
Tobias could see the way your gaze softened, how your tension eased from the trust you faithfully put into the woman serving you. You sighed, shoulders slumping.
"You may leave," you groaned, waving off your loyal maid.
The silence that overtook the room was deafening as you attempted to figure out the best course of action.
"Okay." You whispered, beginning to grab the tray. Tobias's eyes glinted with a hidden excitement, only for it to be crushed just a second later. "Take this and leave. I will await my husband in our bed."
You shoved the tray of sweets into Tobias's arms as you forced him up and onto his feet. "Wait- My Queen I-"
"Enough, jester." Your voice was commanding, losing any affection you typically spoke with towards Tobias. "I have coddled you too much and it's made you far too bold." You stepped away from him, arms covering your chest. "It is true that my affections for you have grown rather... persistent. I apologize for being intimate and leading you astray."
It was true, to some extent. You had played with his feelings. You, in all of your selfish flirting, knew that it could never grow beyond desiring glances and quietly intimate touches. You knew this. And your poor jester, who does not understand the world of royals or duty, was happy to oblige you.
"Do you think me a child?" He scowled.
"Certainly not. A child does not have such ravenous desires." You scoffed in return.
"Ravenous desires? Are my desires ravenous to you?" Placing the tray on the foot of the bed, Tobias stepped forward, closing the distance between you both as your bodies were mere centimeters apart. He could see the fall and rise of your chest, the dainty fabric doing little to conceal the swell of your breasts. "And what of the king's? Are his desires pure? Are any man's?"
"No. Though none as filthy as yours, I'm sure."
"The filthy one is the king, marrying a lady decades his junior." Tobias laughed exasperated, as if this were the funniest yet most exhausting situation.
"The filthy one is me, actually. The lady marrying the old king for riches and power."
"Is that right?"
"It is."
Tobias smiled, sharpened canines barely visible in his grin. It looked almost unnatural, and you wondered why you hadn't noticed such a handsome detail.
"Then I will bring you power and riches." Tobias grew closer now, breath fanning your lips.
"Not like a king." You bit back, your glare a welcomed change to your usually expressionless face.
He twirled the hem of your dress, fingers trailing up to play with the lace holding it tied at your chest. "Not like a king. Better."
"Impossible."
His gaze broke from yours and trailed to the side, catching onto the dresser. You followed, feeling something sinister bubble underneath the tension. You moved slowly, ready to open the dresser and figure out what the jester's plan truly is - only Tobias had already decided; no more waiting.
As your back turned to him, he snaked an arm around your waist and brought a hand to your throat - gentle yet forceful to pull you back into his embrace. The jingle of the bells was the only sound before his lips made contact with your neck, sucking and licking at the exposed flesh.
You moaned, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp but to no avail.
"Jester I-"
"Tobias," he began in between kisses, "You will call me Tobias."
"I will do no such- ah!" Sucking on a particular spot, your knees weakened and buckled, the sweetest little noises escaping your lips much to Tobias's absolute delight.
He walked backwards to sit at the edge of the bed, placing you in his lap with his legs spread wide, bulge poking into the swell of your ass. His arm locked you in place, bunching the fabric around your back and pinching at your skin.
His other hand left your neck and moved to your lips, attempting to force a finger inside. You fought back rather brazenly, spit coating your chin as you refused to widen your mouth. His finger dragged across your teeth before you finally bit him - hard and unforgiving.
Tobias yelped but quickly replaced his quiet ow with a chuckle.
"Are we biting now?" He teased, moving the sleeve of your flimsy dress down. You could feel his breath suck in as he brought his teeth to your skin, gently nibbling before growing more forceful and leaving indentations in your skin. The pain caused you to release his hand from your lips, groaning and whispering curses.
"I will have your head, filthy jester."
"You may have all of me, my precious queen." His voice softened. Tobias nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck before licking a stripe across the bite mark he left on your shoulder. "Every inch of me is yours. So why not give me all of you?"
His hand trailed down your body, across your chest, following the curve of your breast and down your stomach, over his own arm and stopping just above your clothed cunt, dripping with arousal despite your unwavering denial. He lifted your dress and played with the fabric of your lingerie, finding the little slit in between the panties and beginning to run slow circles into your clit.
You bit back a moan, bottom lip tightly bitten to hold off on anything that would raise the bastard's ego any further.
"It didn't have to be this way," he murmured, a whine laced in Tobias's voice. "I tried so hard to make you mine - willingly, I mean."
The pad of his thumb pressed harder into your clit, the once soft circles now turning into rough swipes going up and down and around. His index and pointer dipped down to collect your wetness before continuing once again.
Your back arched at the strange sensation, feeling a knot in your stomach as your hand dropped down to grab at Tobias's thigh, the fabric of his motley bunching between your fingers and offering him some much needed friction. He bucked into your lower back, a pleasant sigh resounding.
His arm tightened around you, almost knocking the air from your longs but necessary, lest he lose his patience so soon. "I have to prepare you." Tobias gathered your slick on his fingers before slowly pushing one finger in - steady and purposeful, waiting for each centimeter to elicit a reaction of pleasure before continuing. He didn't want to hurt you, not that you seemed to realize. Would your king have been so restrained? Would he have delved his fingers into your needy cunt to prepare you?
As Tobias began moving his finger in and out, and your moans became more and more audible, he couldn't help but laugh. "Do you still wish your husband were here?"
Tobias's words seemed to snap you out of this strange stupor. You latched onto his hand and pulled him out and away from you, panting as you realized just how needy he had made you. You craned your neck to look at him, panting and wounded emotionally.
"I..." Your words were caught in your throat.
This is what you wanted, truly. For your handsome jester to take you instead of the old man you called your king. Through all your cognitive senses you knew this was wrong - you'd be strung up alongside this fool come morning should his majesty see you like this. And yet, his majesty is nowhere to be seen.
"Where is my husband?" You questioned.
Tobias groaned, annoyance evident. "Watching."
Tobias's grin sent shivers down your spine, and you realized - you had no want to find out what he meant by that. Watching... As if the old man were here. Your gaze flickered to the dresser and then back to Tobias.
You knew.
Of course you knew.
But the way his grip tightened and the crazed look in his eye worsened, you realized it didn't really matter.
Well, it does. You thought, It will. Tomorrow. I will deal with his actions tomorrow.
Right now, you just needed the ache between your legs subsided.
"Put on a good show for him," you whispered into his lips, leaning in to kiss him fully. Your tongue lapped at Tobias's mouth, teeth clanking as Tobias found your rhythm and followed suite.
You gasped as his fingers found their way back down, this time two beginning to pump in and out of you to chase your high after you so rudely interrupted Tobias the first time. With your full compliance, he let go of your waist and instead grabbed at your breast, massaging the mound of fat and playing with your nipple through the fabric. He pulled and pinched, eliciting excited sighs in between your kisses.
Your noses nuzzled against each other as you both fell back onto the bed, Tobias enclosing you in his front.
"Are you ready?" He asked, practically singing his praises at how wet you had gotten from his playing with you.
You nodded.
"Fill me, Tobias," your words were crude, even for a queen. But the way his name sounded from your tongue sent jolts of pleasure through his body.
From being the little and sweet jester to just Tobias was a dream come true. You spoke to him as an equal then, as a man who would worship you and the ground you walked upon and then snatch it from beneath your feet all the same.
He lifted you for just a moment, unzipping the fabric from his neck down to his groin, his chest freeing itself - large and round and nipples hardened. You wanted to see, to press your face into Tobias's pecks and allow your hands to roam his soft body all over but Tobias was quicker, using his clothed bicep to entrap you. His cock sprung out, fat and long and leaking with precum. You could feel it on your back - the way he slid the tip down to your entrance. He moved it between your thighs once, allowing you a too short view of the reddened tip, its sheer size causing your legs to squeeze together unconsciously.
Tobias squeezed your face with his bicep further, moaning at the sensation. A little aah sounding before he forced one of your legs up and over his free arm.
"You'll have to put me in," he laughed, both hands keeping you in a locked position against him.
With trembling fingers you stretched as far as you could to grab Tobias's dick, the wet flesh a feeling you had never quite expected, though it made you throb. You lined yourself up, achingly slow and pushed the tip in, causing Tobias's head to fall black in complete and utter pleasure.
"So good," he moaned out. "Such a pretty cunt."
Before you could continue, Tobias bucked his hips up - you imagined on purpose though you were certain he'd deny it should you ask. His dick pierced through your gummy walls, filling you with his sheer length and burrowing deep into your warm crevices.
"Sooo beautiful. Even better than I imagined. Gods, I want to ravage you." Tobias continued babbling on, waiting for you to move on your own while he continued to praise the tightness of your cunt.
You began rolling your hips, grinding in the air to achieve the friction inside that would hit that spot just right. Tobias committed the movement to memory, beginning to copy you in order to help you chase relief as fast and as hard as possible. His hand squeezed at your thigh, massaging your leg and sliding across your soft, warm skin. He trailed down, hands digging into the skin of your stomach and playing with the fabric of your lingerie.
He had never been one to enjoy such lewd costumes - Tobias knows better than anyone what it's like to be forced into a clownish dress, parading himself to others simply to entice them into enjoying his comedy. You needn't entice him anything, your bare skin perfectly crafted for his taking. What more could Tobias want?
"To have you like this... for me... It is," he moaned a loud mmf before continuing, "It is splendid. You are perfect."
"Tobias..." You shivered at his touch, squeezing him tighter for the praises he sang in your name.
No longer is your jester performing for your validation. This is who he is - raw and deep and achingly romantic. The shape of his cock molded you to him, every crevice inside you explored as he begins to rut into you, losing the soft, grinding motion he initially began with. He simply couldn't keep up the rhythm, not when your gummy wells are hugging him so well, not when he can feel your slick dripping onto his happy trail and staining his costume.
"Ah ah ah, so good, so tight. Just like that." His words became erratic.
Tobias; ever the fool, became pussy drunk just from fucking you. He wished to stay here forever, buried inside of you with his hands roaming the expanse of your tits and neck and face.
"I... I feel something is coming," you admitted, fingers digging into the arm holding your head in place. His grip loosened for just a moment, allowing you a breath before tightening once again, speeding his pace to fuck you into your release.
"Let it come," Tobias reassured, "All of it. I want to hear and see all of it."
His cock glided in and out of you, the almost pink length wet with your arousal as he rolled his hips into you. His finger circled your clit once again, your leg propped up against his forearm as he chased your high with a thorough strength you weren't sure your body was made to entirely handle.
"I'm cumming, sweet girl, I-" Tobias's moan broke his own sentence, your scream piercing the air at the same time as he rode out both of your highs.
His hips hesitated, pumps erratic with the feeling of his wet, thick cum coating your insides. You felt so full, so cockdrunk you didn't even care he hadn't pulled out. If anything, you wanted more, your exhausted body grinding into his softening cock once again.
Tobias chuckled, leaving himself inside of your needy cunt as you continued grinding.
"You want more?" He chuckled, "You want this poor jester's cock to cum inside you again?"
All you could do was nod, yes and please sputtering out of you in quiet fervor.
Tobias flipped you onto your back, gently placing you against the velvety bedsheets as he placed his forearms at either side of you. You could finally see him fully, drink in his appearance and all of his masculine edges. His eyes were wide, pupils blown from the pleasure you granted him. His chest, large and round, seemed so warm, glistening with sweat and shadowed by his motley.
Your fingers made their way to his stomach, thin with his ribs angled, his abs barely visible but clearly felt as you trailed along the skin. His cock hardened against your touch, and you could see its size growing until it laid against your stomach once again.
You reached down but Tobias pulled his hips back, earning an exasperated whine from you. Gods, he loved this. You are a complete and utter mess now, perfectly desperate for him as he has always been for you.
"Show me where you want it," he teased, grinning.
Your pride could have gotten the better of you - perhaps if you were still facing away from him it would have. But right now, seeing his cock on full display and the way his body curls over yours, you just couldn't put up your mighty queen act even if you tried. Spreading your legs, your fingers moved to your cunt, pushing the skin aside with a reddened face, embarrassment beyond evident. "In here, Tobias." Your whispers were quieter than he would have liked, but seeing you spread wide for him is more than enough compensation.
He pushed inside of you, your hands quickly finding his pecks and squeezing and clawing as he grinds into your needy cunt. "So good, so tight. You're such a good girl for me," he fanned into your ear, trailing wet kisses down your jawline and reaching your lips.
A banging came from the dresser. The reality you knew and tried to deny finally making itself undeniably apparent. Tobias saw the pathetic fear contort into your features, fingers grabbing at your chin and holding you in place.
"Look at me," he ordered, still drumming into you at a deliciously slow speed. You obeyed, if only to keep him satisfied. Tobias's gaze softened at you, thumb releasing and sliding across your bottom lip. "If you go now, this ends. Forever."
You frantically looked to the dresser through the corner of your eye, the wood moving back and forth as your king attempted to release himself. You looked back at Tobias - at him. The man with whom you've shared countless little conversations with, all jovial, all exciting. The man before you, eliciting complete and utter pleasure from you, had never once judged you for your lack of an ability to smile. If anything, it only seemed to spur him on further.
A tear slid down your cheek and Tobias quickly wiped it away, cooing at you.
Your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him closer to you. "Just take me," you pleaded.
Pierrot instantly freezes up beneath you, spiraling into a breathless state of overwhelming, tearful devotion. The sudden physical sting makes his mind race with a desperate, suffocating panic that this is a dream, but as the mark forms, he melts into absolute compliance. He will bury his face in your hair, sobbing out frantic, quiet whimpers of gratitude because you are physically marking him as yours. He will immediately hide the bruise under his heavy cloak or costume, guarding it like a sacred, deeply private secret that belongs only to the two of you.
Harlequin:
Harlequin goes entirely off the rails with hyperactive, manic ecstasy the moment he feels your lips and teeth on his neck. He lets out a loud, chaotic laugh, his wide eyes dilating with dangerous, twitching energy as he grips your waist tightly to hold you against him. He treats the love bite like an intense, exhilarating game, squirming and grinning widely as he demands you leave more. The mark satisfies his volatile possessiveness completely, and he will constantly point it out to you with smug, unblinking intensity.
Jester:
Jester lets out a sharp, surprised hiss when your teeth first sink into his skin, his dominant composure briefly slipping. Once he realizes what you are doing, his mocking smirk returns with an aggressive, possessive edge. He considers the mark a proud trophy of his complete ownership over you. He will proudly leave it exposed to the rest of the circus, using it as a loud, public declaration that you are thoroughly yours, before violently yanking you back into his lap to bite you right back twice as hard to re-establish who is the true master.
Ticket taker:
Ticket Taker responds with a heavy, frozen stillness that makes the surrounding air feel completely ice-cold. He does not flinch, groan, or smile as you bite into his dark form; his glowing eyes simply stare down at you with a piercing, unblinking intensity. He views the hickey as a permanent, binding seal on a contract—an official signature proving your total forfeiture of freedom. His massive, cold hand will slowly lock onto the back of your neck, pinning you tightly against his chest to trap you in his dark, silent cage forever.
Doctor:
Doctor pauses perfectly still, his analytical eyes narrowing as his cold composure instantly shifts into evaluation mode. He doesn't pull away from the sting; instead, his hands will rest directly over your pulse points or your chest, tracking exactly how fast your heart is racing while you claim his skin. He views the bite as a fascinating psychological development in your submission, tilting your chin up with a calm, unsettling grip afterward to quietly lecture you on the physiological bruising process while planning exactly where he is going to mark you in return.
Sorry guys for not writing for a while, a lot of stuff went down but yeah I’m back
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Ok so you don’t even know how this started but you decided to walk to streets of Gotham one night and this you see a boy no older than 16 looking bummed out. He seems to have some green highlights in his hair and a purple suit. Honestly you weren’t even gonna approach him until he noticed you and started sighing really loudly. “Are you ok dude?” “Oh little ol’ me?” Yeah you’re already starting to regret going up to him. “Well I’m in a bit of a down mood. You see I have this idol and I really wanted to meet him.” Looking more at him you see that not only was his face slightly fucked up but he looked like a wish version of the Joker. “Dude, please don’t tell me it’s the joker,” you say grimacing. “Ding ding ding, we have a winner! But I’ve been trying really hard to meet him, I feel like I can be such a good sidekick. I’m funny, creative, just enough crazy that would match him so well.” Oh yeah you could definitely see where the crazy comes in. Just talking about joker made him have a really creepy smile on his face almost resembling said idol.
“Let me guess it didn’t go well for you?” His smile dropped as he looked at you with a blank face. “Those idiotic henchmen don’t know what potential is even if you beat it into them. Well they looked at me as if I was a joke to them, which I am not, then beat me in that alleyway.” He points to the alleyway a few feet away from y’all. Now looking at him, he looks extremely skinny and his suit looked too big on him as well as his green highlights are poorly done. “Hey kid are you hungry.” “Starved, now do you have some money so I can go eat.” Half concerned for him getting into more trouble as well as wanting to talk some sense into him, you instead would rather take him to eat. Also you didn’t really care about the price since you’ve been making so much money you could already be considered a millionaire. “How about we go eat at the nearby diner together?” He looks at you with cautious eyes that quickly get replaced by mischief when feeling his own stomach gurgling. “I guess but I’m ordering everything I want no matter the price!”
While you were eating, for some reason he just went on rambling about his life. He revealed he lives in the outskirts of Gotham with his mother who has been financially suffering pretty much all his life. He wanted to be a comedian in the future but when he would go do stand up comedy no one found him funny in the slightest. So, he thought the only person who would understand him is the joker. Yeah you forgot how ghetto Gotham is and how bad mental health is for all citizens. The more you kept talking, the more you realized you never found out what is name is. “Damn, I realized I never asked for your name. My name is [Reader’s name].” “Oh, I didn’t think you were interested. My name is Izaiah Filton but you could call me anything you want,” he got close, “I’m still trying to figure out my villain name.” You think for a silly little nickname to give him. “Hmmm, I’m gonna call you Jesterpop.” He tilts his head to the side, squinting his eyes confused. “Sorry the green and purple kind of remind me of those swirl stix popsicles I used to eat as a kid and a jester was used to make jokes so I thought it was fitting.” He analyzes your face for a split second then he starts smiling creepily again. “Ah yes why didn’t I think of that. What are these swirl stix you speak of? I have never heard of such thing.” We could try it once we get out of here.
Once you got the popsicles, JP started asking you some questions. “So what’s your story? Are you also interested in become a villain?” Let’s be so for real, you as a villain? Absolutely not, have you seen how Batman leaves his victims? Also you enjoy working with the Wayne’s too much to betrayal them like that. “Umm, no. I’m not interested in being a villain at all. I’m more interested in the medical field, specifically a (could be any whether mental health or physical health or surgery). I also grew up poor and have always wanted to help people as well as be in a stable position financially.” “But if you struggled, why do you have so much money now?” “I work for the Wayne family.” I say smiling at him. “I’ve been getting a lot of money for taking care of the youngest so I don’t mind sharing some money.” He stares at you with an exaggerated disgusted face. “You have been working with those rich snobs? You’re so strong if I worked with them I would’ve gotten rid of them one by one.” You raise an eyebrow at his comment. “I mean yeah they could be a handful but they aren’t that bad. They’re the only family I got right now. My folks left me behind when college came around telling me to figure it out.” You look over and for the first time he doesn’t have a really creepy expression. He looks at you with pity mixed with admiration.
“You’re so strong, I wish I could be like you and don’t worry I’ll be your friend. No matter the time or what you need I’ll be here for you. You don’t need to depend on those rich fuckers, cause you got me now!” He says with a big smile, pointing to himself. You feel a vibration in your pocket and check Jason called you as well as sent you a message telling you to come back home cause Bruce wants everyone at the home theater. You grab 2 popsicles and give the other 4 to JP. “I gotta go home now but do you want my number or something to keep in touch.” He grabs the box and smiles at you. “I do apologize but I do not have a phone. Don’t worry though, I’ll find you.” Creepy but whatever. You ruffle his hair and go on your way. Looking at you walking back home, Izaiah’s smile begins to widen. He replays when you mentioned wanting to help people and having no actual family. ‘Hmm, you want a family? Then I’ll find you the perfect family.’
Days past and you don’t hear from kid at all. Kind of a bummer but you can’t force anyone to be your friend. You told Damian a bit about him and he didn’t really respond that well to you taking some random out to get food with you, especially a fan of the joker. Unbeknownst to you, Izaiah has been talking a lot about you. It started off with some petty criminals in the streets that were struggling and didn’t really fit in anywhere. Then it branched off to some other unfortunate people on the streets or struggling to make ends meet that some random young girl had helped Izaiah when he was gloomy and beaten on the streets. Izaiah started forming a gang that grew in small numbers and has even started going by the name Jesterpop to honor your choice of a nickname. He had been orchestrating robberies and other small crimes as a way to help the members support themselves slowly but surely. The more he talked about their unknowing boss, the more impatient they were to finally meet her.
One particular day you were playing with Titus with Damian while Jason was on his phone when all of a sudden Alfred came to the living room in a slight panic. “Miss [last name], a group of people came to the manor looking for you. Shall I alert maser Bruce to come home early?” You and Damian look at each other confused. Why would a big group of people come looking for you? You and Damian make your way to the front door with Jason at a slight distance. Checking the glass you see a familiar face. Izaiah, or should I say Jesterpop has some colorful clown makeup on with his hair slightly grown out, a green and purple jester hat, and a striped suit matching the color theme and a cane. You can guess the cane is to make him look more powerful or something but to you his outfit is adorable. Opening the door, you’re greeted with JP immediately pushing Damian from in front of you and going to hug you. “I don’t know what I was thinking before meeting you. Joker just wasn’t it, you’re so much better.” You’re so confused but you hug him back then go to help Damian up after pulling back. “Glad to see your doing better but who are all these people?” You look around the crowd to see a group of people ranging from young kids around 13 years old to people that look like they’re in their thirties. The younger the people the more jester or clown-like they look while the older ones looked more like bodyguards. All of them had some type of look of admiration when setting their eyes on you. “Silly, these are your new family. Every last one of them are completely loyal to you, way better than the Waynes am I right?” He says with a big innocent smile.
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This was a small idea that popped into my head and if you guys want more of this as a separate thing, something you want to be included into the nanny au, or just don’t like it then let me know. I’ll also share inspiration pictures for Izaiah (I’m not a good artist so don’t judge that) as well as they would also be Yanderes.
Yandere jester who was once a beloved member of a kingdom long forgotten. So beloved that the king and queen treated him like family. Yet it all came crashing down when a rival kingdom massacred every single person in the kingdom he had grown to adore, leaving him the only survivor.
The rival kingdom took him as their possession, a reminder of a victory they had achieved. They treated him like a toy, and did whatever they wanted to him.
A year after the victory, he killed them all and a sickening feeling manifested in his hollow being. He enjoyed their screams, their pleas, and seeing their bloodied bodies go limp.
After that, he traveled to many different kingdoms, in search of people that would satisfy his desire for blood.
Yandere jester who had seen you walk around the marketplace where he performed. He planned on making you his next victim. You were filled with such livelines, your life blooming and to him it was the perfect time to take it all away from you.
He had it all planned out, how slowly he would take away your life with his own twisted hands. It was supposed to be another easy kill.
Yet he found himself hovering above your sleeping body, his knife a few inches away from your face. For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to fully bring down his knife onto your delicate face.
He had hesitated for the first time.
While he mercilessly attacked his other victims, he thought that it would rather be a shame to see your unmoving body. It was rather nice seeing your chest rising and falling, a sign that you were alive, and your face..
You reminded him of her.
That night, he decided to let you live.
—
You were awoken by chirps of the morning birds, a sound you’ve grown accustomed to. Your eyes fluttered open, seeing the light of the sun shine through the window and inside your room.
..wait light?
You sat up and looked at your window, surely enough the curtains were moved to the side.
That’s weird. You were sure that you covered up the window before falling asleep.
Oh well, it’s not a serious matter. It was another day and you had to get ready in order to sell at the marketplace.
You followed your regular routine, and by the end of it you filled your basket with the loafs of bread you made the day before. Once everything was ready your walk to the marketplace was set.
As you set foot outside, you were immediately greeted by warm environment the kingdom had to offer.
Walking to the marketplace had never been a hassle, it wasn’t far away from your home and you occasionally greeted your neighbors as they walked by.
Just as you made it to the entrance, you saw a familiar figure not too far away. It was a jester who arrived not so long ago and has started his entertainments in the middle of the marketplace. He was freakishly tall, his face covered in white face paint. His smile wide, his sharp teeth visible.
You hadn’t paid attention to him before but for some reason you wanted to see what he was doing. You were one of the many people among the crowd that surrounded him.
Without even intending to, you had stayed until the end of his performance. You only realized that when people clapped and started going their separate ways.
You were about to turn around and continue on with your day, when you saw the jester slowly walk towards you. He stood infront of you, his height towered over you. He held out his clawed hand that was holding a white chrysanthemum.
“For me?” You looked up at him.
The jester only nodded his head and waited for you to take the flower. You carefully set your basket on the floor and took the flower into your hands.
“Thank you, it’s beautiful..” your hand slowly caressed the petals. Then an idea came.
You looked down at your basket filled with wrapped bread and grabbed one.
“Please, take this in exchange for the flower.”
The jester tilted his head before shaking his head and held his hands up as if saying no need
“I insist, this flower is truly breathtaking, surely I must repay you.” This time it was you who held out your hand. It looked like he was contemplating but in the end accepted the bread.
He bowed, the hand that held the bread close to his heart while his other arm was outstretched.
You smiled and picked up your basket.
“I must go now, but thank you again.” You waved at him and turned away.
Maybe I’ll start watching more of his performances. You thought.
—
Weeks passed by, and you found yourself watching every single of his acts and staying until the very end, where most of the time he’ll give you something. You’ve received fruits, flowers, even hand crafted items.
You wondered if him not talking was a part of his character. He told you he just shook his head that no, it wasn’t a part of his act when you questioned him.
You’ve grown to adore him. Your days seemed more delightful when with him. At night though, it was different. It felt like someone was watching your every move. Sometimes you would see a shadowy figure outside of your window.
You concluded that it was just your imagination as an attempt to ease yourself.
—
It was another night of kneading some dough in the kitchen.
Your humming was interrupted when there was a knock on your door.
Who is outside at such an hour?
Despite your better judgment, you went to open the door.
It was the jester.
“Oh! It’s just you!” You said, happy to see him.
Wait a minute… you don’t recall ever telling him where you lived. Did he knock at other people’s doors before finding you or..
No, you probably did tell him, you just forgot!
Your eyes trailed down from his face and saw that he hid his bloody arm behind his back.
“Are.. you okay? What happened? What are you doing out so late? haven’t you heard that there’s been people going missing?” You assumed that he was hurt and ushered him inside.
“Stay here, I’ll get some bandages for…” your voice drifted as he leaned over you, his typical smile plastered across his face.
His hand reached out to tightly hold your wrist, while the hand that was hidden behind his back moved towards you.
You stood there frozen as he showed you what he held.
It was a heart.
The smell of iron filled your senses and with your other hand you covered your mouth.
No…
No way it was real..
It had to be fake.
It had to.
His eyes narrowed seeing your reaction. Did you not like it? It was the heart of the man who was rude to you the other day! He frowned a bit when you struggled againts his grasp and hit his hand with the heart causing it to fall.
“Let.. let go of me! What did you do?!” You screamed, trying to pull away from his tight hold on you.
Suddenly he pushed you onto the ground and pinned you against it. His bloodied hand slowly caressed your cheek.
“You.. did you.. kill all of those missing people?” you said accusingly.
He nodded, his smile widening.
You stiffened, your eyes glistened with tears. Why would he..
…
Were you next?
Yandere jester who loves seeing the fear etched on your face, What were you thinking?
Did you.. think you he was going to kill you?
Of course not, he would never kill his princess darling.
Yandere jester who wishes he could tell you about what he wants to do with you. How he wants to sink his teeth into your soft skin. How he wants to grip your thighs hard enough causing you to bleed.
He wants to hold you close as you cry from how rough he is with you while whispering words of adoration and love.
But he can’t, he lost his voice due to an injury to his neck caused by those loathly beings.
…
It’s fine, he’ll just have to show you how much he wants you through his actions.
He’s very much a sadist. This one might be my fav fic ive written so far cuz I had fun writing it but it might be trash. I might draw him later 😛 not proof read.
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.
Slop built by envy.
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.
Ironic, isn’t it?
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."
What?
You squint your eyes, making sure your eyesight is still okay. “Make sure none of the puppets are missing and walking around ….”
What.
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—
“BOO!!”
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.
“Chocolate?”
“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?”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“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.”
You blink. “Really?”
“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.”
… Okay.
“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.
But maybe that’s okay.
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.
And you, too.
***
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—
“We’re here to help you, that’s what family does for one another.”
“Don’t… Don’t come closer!”
There was only so much space to press into, your back already against the headrest of the bed. You looked at the monsters assembled before you, intrigued by the pet one of them dragged in. They should have killed you—you watched them do it to others. Yet they spared you. Why? You had no idea, but you were trembling under their gazes.
“We won’t hurt you,” one of them finally spoke up, breaking through the silent stares. You wanted to look for who was speaking, but you were too afraid to avert your eyes.
The speaker stepped forward, a hint of blue breaking through the dark wall of their bodies, reminding you of the ticket taker at the entrance. Reluctantly, you looked at the person, only to recoil at the sight of food held out towards you.
“I’m not eating that!” you protested. “You probably poisoned it! Or- or put needles in it, you monster!”
“We’re here to help you,” he responded. “That’s what family does for one another.”
“You’re not my family!”
“Oh?” Another of the monsters stepped forward, his purple gaze raking over you like claws against flesh.
