Yandere!Prince x Fem!Jester Reader x Yandere!Platonic King
A/N: This was written with me half-awake, so please excuse my grammatical errors.
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CW: yandere, blood, gore, murder and death, king has separation anxiety, knight is really unhinged, branding (to knight), king views reader a little like a pet, unwanted nonsexual touch, reader lowkey does not care about all the insanity because she is just trying to stay alive.
Every morning Freyr wakes just after twilight to gather the ingredients for the freshest breakfast, lunch, and dinner that even royalty doesn’t eat. One time, the sound of a high-pitched screech from a chicken dying awoke you. Out your tiny window, you could see Freyr walking from the chicken coop carrying something unknown in his hand. That afternoon, he gave you a fresh pot pie; it was the most delicious meal that was ever prepared specifically for you. If you asked about the new burns on his hand, he would only smile and reply with his own questions about the dish. Usually, you ate whatever scraps were left from the other palace staff. Given that it was Lethia, most of the meat was frozen and thawed; only people in the upper class ate fresh meat. You could never figure out when he had the time to cook or even where, but he never failed to bring you home-cooked meals.
On a special occasion in court, you are tasked with performing for the king and his honored visitors. Per usual, Aurelio was enjoying your routine, but your misplaced joke offended one guest. For your routines, you could only make as many jokes about the king before it got too old. So you decided to be bolder that dinner. You turned to a middle-aged man with a thick mustache. “Look at the Earl’s heavy…silver, no, sapphire necklace. It is beautiful, is it not? It is proof that chains look much better when dipped in the sweat of starving serfs.” Despite the joke being rather clever, it came out with awkward pauses in the middle of sentences and a dry laugh at the end when you were unsure if the joke would even land correctly. Silence. A silence you knew was worse than a strike across the face. The Earl jolts up, pointing in your direction. “Your Majesty, this jester should be sent to the gallows for such an insolent comment to a guest of the royal family!”
You fall to your knees, sweating profusely. But before you can beg for your life to the king, Freyr, with fury, rushes before the guest’s table and throws his gauntlet on the guest’s plate. Freyr demands a duel to the death with a contorted face. The king stands and allows it with the caveat that Freyr will not only duel the Earl but four of the Earl’s best knights. A pin dropped miles away could be heard in the heavy silence. Freyr glares up at the King and accepts, both ignoring the sputtering noble that was trying to call off the challenge. Aurelio had no intention of killing you, but the opportunity to kill Freyr served on a silver platter is too good to pass up.
You follow behind the court sweeping out to the battlefield, trying to get anyone to listen to you and call this off because, really, this was over dramatic for one poor joke! No one listens to your pleas. Somehow, the dueling grounds are already prepared with spectators in the stands; word gets around quickly in the citadel. There is a damn ale cart selling already, like this is a festival. Aurelio sits you right in front of him as usual. He can never have his jester be too far from his presence. Freyr is on one end, sitting on a rock, head bent down; he might be praying, but you can’t tell. On the opposite end, the Earl you never got the name of and his most reliable four knights- oh hell, one of them looks like his teenage son. A servant announces the event and participants' names, but your eyes are glued to Freyr. The King calls for the participants to stand ready in a circle. Freyr walks to the center with deadly focus; only for a moment does he look at you, giving what could be a nod, but it was far too deep. He was bowing to you.
Once the duel starts, it becomes a bloody massacre. The first knight has already fallen; Freyr has carved his throat out with one blow. The other three converge on him, but it's to no avail. You cover your eyes, it's too brutal for the minor offense that set this off. The guilt of seeing all the bloodshed you indirectly caused is too much to bear. You can hear the blows being traded and grunts from each man receiving them, but you keep your eyes covered. A thud of a body hitting the ground, and a trumpet is blown, signifying the end of the battle. You don’t want to open your eyes for even the smallest chance that it's Freyr lying there in his own blood. A servant saves you the trouble of wondering for too long when he announces the winner. Aurelio curses behind you as the servant shouts Freyr's full title.
Freyr walks stone-faced to the mangled body of the Earl and rips the crest from the garment covering his armor. The battlefield is not pretty — chunks of the knights and their armor are strewn across the dirt, splattered in blood. As you examine the field in horror, Freyr comes before you. He kneels, looking up with a pleading look, and holds out the crest he ripped from the noble. The king is giving a speech (while seething and making snide comments) when you gingerly take the cloth from Freyr. His dark brown eyes, like earth after a heavy rain, stare as if to swear an oath to you: I will die for you, and I will kill for you. He remains there until you beg him to stand. When everyone returns to their duties in the castle, he follows closely behind you. His presence almost feels like a ghost. So close, yet not fully there. Ironically, he was your knight until death, whether it was his or anyone else’s.
The following week, on a particularly cold day when Freyr brings you breakfast, he has a strange request; he asks you to write your initials out on a piece of paper. He doesn't answer you when you ask what it's for. Freyr takes the paper to the royal blacksmith and has him create a brand that is meant for cattle. To the smith's horror, Freyr asks him to brand his chest with it. It takes a hefty bag of gold, but the blacksmith agrees; he commands Freyr to bite down on a piece of leather. The brand is deep and angry-looking, but after a visit to the equally horrified physician, Freyr has a treatment for his wound to heal cleanly and still be clear.
You catch sight of it weeks later when it's freshly healed. While you eat lunch together, he is in a casual tunic. He leaned over to wipe something off your cheek, and that's when you saw it. Demanding he remove his tunic to check on him, you pressed him on what it was and what caused it, but he dodged your questions. He doesn't hesitate when removing his shirt. There, in all its glory, is a branding on his chest of your initials in your handwriting.
The violence that follows Freyr never seems to end. A siege is carried out against the king at the citadel. The pepper you had planned for the joke this evening had been taken by a servant because it was expired, but you thought more likely that some rat bastard wanted to see you fail. The kitchen is just right down the hall, so they won’t mind if one goes missing- trumpets sound, and knights are yelling in the yard. An attack has begun. Your thoughts went to Freyr, he should be at the battlegrounds, but the sound of your door being thrown open revealed he had abandoned his duties. His face was pulled in complete terror until he checked you up and down twice. Not even a paper cut would have escaped his careful gaze.
On your way out of the castle, Freyr snatches a torch from the wall. Your feet are heavy against the stone, the walls echo behind you as the hall narrows. This isn't anywhere you know. A man jumps from behind a corner, but he hasn’t the chance to harm you before Freyr runs him through with a sword. The splatter on your face is jarring. “Why is blood so warm?” you wonder as Freyr steps on the body, leading you farther down. Where is he leading you? This isn’t anywhere near any exit you know...maybe this was a secret room for royalty to hide in times like these. Freyr's face lights with recognition, and he throws a heavy oak door open. The cold winter air blows through your costume. The weight of a heavy, expensive cloak settles around your shoulders, and Freyr fastens the cloak with one hand while quickly explaining that he knows some ruins not far from here where you both can hide out till morning.
Silently, he leads you through the forest. The crunching of snow beneath your feet worries you that someone will follow your tracks, but it's been quiet so far. The ruins are small and tucked into a thick brush, far from any prying eyes. Inside lacks furniture, the torch burning its remaining fuel illuminates this fact grimly. The saving grace is that there is a tapestry on the walls, something you both can use for warmth and cushioning. Freyr rips them down and piles them into a makeshift bed in a corner farthest from the windows. When you ask if you shall share it, he vehemently declares no and states that he isn’t worthy to sleep next to you. He will subsequently sleep next to the door in case any intruders appear. It wasn’t so bad in the tapestries, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty about Freyr sleeping upright next to the door; when you look to check on him, he is contentedly watching you. Best to let sleeping dogs lie, as they say.
The next morning when you both return to the castle, it’s clear the massacre you missed was something that would be told around the court for years to come. Maybe Freyr watching you sleep all night was worth not being in the middle of this. As you turn to thank him, the king waltzes up, already talking down to Freyr about leaving his post as the king's guard. Maybe you could step in- the king begrudgingly thanks Freyr for keeping you safe and handing him the most pitiful purse of coins. There couldn’t be more than four coins in that thing. Freyr immediately turns and hands them to you.
On the knightly training grounds, Freyr mentioned yearning to leave his job to go live in a cottage out in the woods. The minimal details he did give you were that he wanted it to be sustainable for at least two people and for it to have various livestock on the attached farm. You inquired why he does not just run off now, and he responds with a stoic expression. “Before, I would have run off only if my father passed or if the war had finally ended. It's much more complicated now..." He pauses and does not elaborate on what he means by 'complicated.' His eyes, which were originally looking down at his hands, are now looking straight through you. “…if you ask, I shall behead the king in an instant.” He was going to add more about starting a new life together, but the sound of a pair of boots on the cobblestone training grounds interrupted him. You glance over your shoulder to be face to face with a familiar blond man. Aurelio’s face was unreadable at first before he let out a derisive scoff. “Is my knight interested in playing God with his King now?”
Freyr shook his head. “No, My Lord. I was merely helping the fool practice with her next routine.” Aurelio smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Really? How gracious of you to be helping my jester. Speaking of which, I wish to see her now, so move along with your training.”
Despite Freyr being completely shredded, he was rather quiet. Numerous stealth missions in Vashkar taught him that just one noise can make or break a situation. He used these skills to gather information that was being said about you. Especially after you worked in front of a larger audience. He has disposed of many nobles ever since his first eavesdropping… Depending on their offence, they either had their reputation completely ruined (for a ‘simple’ warrior, he had too many connections), their body seriously injured or mutilated, or worse, dead. If he overheard such comments right in front of him, he would just challenge them to a public duel. Freyr has been trying his hardest to overhear even the tiniest insult from the king, but to no avail there was none! If anything, Aurelio gushed over you for hours on end. Gushing about how even your eating and stretching was amusing. The knight would get a headache if he listened too long about how much the king adored you.
A chalked tally of the number of Freyr’s fights in your name was on one board in the training grounds. Another board held the bets on how long it would take for him to beat the opponent based on how badly you were insulted.
Freyr used one of his connections to a fellow knight to get a portrait of you. One of the lower-ranked knight’s aunts was a painter who did royal portraits. Typically, the portraits within the palace walls were only for the upper class, as she charged an exorbitant sum of gold for just one commission. He asked the knight if he could schedule a session with his aunt, and, given his high likability among the soldiers, he could get a word in with the painter. Though he did have the gold to pay for the portrait (spoils of war were quite the hefty sum, considering he was the captain). She decided not to question why Freyr, the head of the knights, wanted a portrait of the palace's fool, as he was already paying much over her usual rate. It was a little difficult for her to come in and paint you discreetly, so they devised a plan: Freyr would lead you to the gardens and ask you about your favorite subjects and listen to you ramble while the painter sat in the gazebo, far enough away that you wouldn’t notice, but if you did, you would assume she was painting the garden. The plan was successful, and only a couple of days later did Freyr hand you the portrait.
Princess Seraphina recommended that her brother give the visiting queen sapphires, as the queen’s homeland highly values the gem since it is scarce in their lands. However…Aurelio already used the sapphires in gifting you a new jester hat. Usually, Lethian jesters were given costumes meant to convey amusement rather than wealth. His sister was not happy about this and did rightfully cuss him out in front of his advisors, but Aurelio was, alas, shameless in his gift-giving and did not have a lick of guilt on his face. The only reason Seraphina was having her brother deal with this diplomatic meeting was that she was invited to another land’s flower festival on the same date. It was for good reason that the king was not in charge of diplomacy because he was extremely hard to please in any regard. Yet when his jester does something as simple as breathing, he’s hooting and hollering. His sister even asked him about this, and he just said you were his very close personal friend (?).
Some important background to note about the king is that he has an entire harem, just like his father. Harems were extremely common within the Lethian emperor’s lineage. The blond slept around a lot too; it’s actually a miracle he had not gotten any of his concubines pregnant. Despite the amount of intimacy he engages in, he is heavily emotionally detached from these women. Hence why his sister is absolutely appalled by his obsession with you.
Aurelio isn’t the type to show physical affection; he was hard to read and even harder to gain favor. But now it is written in blood that he must, in some shape or form, wrap his arms around you or rest his chin on your head/shoulder. Don’t even think about trying to get away either, he will drag you next to him, not caring who is in front of him (Freyr is seething at this).
Unfortunately, Aurelio found out about the portrait Freyr gifted you. He couldn't care less that it came from the knight he kept sending on death missions; you were painted wonderfully in this! As such, he places the colorful oil painting directly to the right of his portrait in the hallway of royal portraits. This is very confusing to foreign travelers who don’t know the Lethian royal family…
