Chapter Text
You knew, in your heart, that such a craving was unhealthy.
Dependency was not a good thing. You should not let your heart rest on the uncertain emotions of people around you.
This.. this infatuation was terribly unhealthy.
But you could hardly help it. Not when they were so beautiful, when they were so jovial and mysterious and so magical to you.
The kingdom was under the rule of the King, William Afton. A cold-hearted man with eyes so very sharp and dangerous that they outweighed his weak stature. The man was frail, perhaps a bit sickly-looking. But Afton held the very kingdom in an iron hold that hadn’t so much as twitched in the 57 years of his rule.
You knew, as someone who once lived in many a neighboring kingdom, that the way of Afton’s court was odd. Especially in the facet of entertainment.
You had once been a part of a traveling circus. A jack of all trades, you’d call yourself, as you had played several different roles within the circus. Maybe that was partly due to the working conditions being less than safe and leading to some substantial injuries or the fact that many other performers found more sustainable work in other areas. Whatever it was, a lot of times there weren’t enough people for whatever acts, and you’d all be switched around to try and make do.
Your circus troupe was abysmal, truly. Hardly an ounce of loyalty between everyone unless a pair act had been taken in, and even then the pairs often left the troupe quickly. But you had not a single idea what you would do if not play a part in the circus. Whether you were a clown, an acrobat, a trapeze artist, or a magician, you were loyal to the very act of entertainment. Sure, you couldn’t be a strongman, but you could cover the other bases. Sometimes you were the oddity, the freak they displayed for the jeers and frightened gasps of others. Being a bit of a contortionist probably aided with that, along with the bizarre outfits and makeup that was used to make you into a creature, a beast.
You had no idea how your troupe even had the funding for your ‘freakshow’ performances. The outfits and everything had to cost a pretty penny…
But regardless. You were once part of a traveling circus troupe, where you brought thrills to the people and delighted in the laughs, the cheers, the screams, all of it.
You loved making people laugh, the most. The joyous kind of laughter that was to do with amazement more than anything, the laughter not of mocking but of starstruck musing. You loved the way children would stare and gasp as you performed whatever tricks in whatever sparkling outfit. In those moments, you were adored.
You had wanted so badly to be adored.
Even as the freakshow, you made yourself into a piece of art. A wild, frightening, but still beautiful work of art.
Even as the freak, you were adored.
So you truly hadn’t a clue why you had ended up in the situation you were. Now, Afton’s court had many odd characteristics. The easiest one to point out was the more… inhuman members. Automatons, if you remembered correctly. You’d never seen something like them before, metal men who could look like anything from animals to odd facsimiles of humans to other things entirely. The most entrancing people, truly. You’d met one, a large bear-man with colored lines of blue and red decorating him. The nicest person you think you’d ever met, truly.
His name was Freddy, you think.
There were more automatons among the court than humans, many of which were the King’s closest advisors. If you were correct, it was the yellow rabbit with the purple eyes that was the King’s right-hand. The rabbit was one of the metal men who’s casings were covered with fur, providing him with a fluffy appearance. Something about the rabbit sent chills down your spine.
The others were mostly blurry faces to you.
The second odd thing, to you, at least, was the role of jester and fool. Now, usually, a jester and a fool were simply the same. A comedian free to mock the King and the crowd for entertainment while also being a bit of an advisor should it be needed. But no, here, the fool and the jester were separate. The jester was the performative mockings, while the fool was the mocked, the laughing-stock.
You didn’t know that when you managed to become the court Fool.
You had been presented with the job opportunity while traipsing around in town, having a bit of money saved up from performances and deciding you deserved a sweet treat of sorts. You were quite sure you had seen a sweets shop somewhere nearby, and the idea of a chocolate or perhaps a caramel was enticing.
You had still been in your outfit from the circus, a leotard covered in sparkles and gems meant to catch the light while you swung from the trapeze. Sure, it got you odd looks as you walked through the town, your well-worn shoes clashing with the whole ensemble.
It was right before you reached the candy shop, with the sun beating down on your head and making you squint, the smell of toffee and sugar permeating the air, that you were approached by a man on a horse. He was dressed quite fine, clearly a noble or someone of an even higher ranking. What stood out to you were his eyes, the sharpest green you’d ever seen on a human.
He spoke your name, asked if that was you, if you were the one from the circus troupe. You responded that yes, that was you, and asked what he needed. From there he pulled out a letter, a red wax stamp keeping it closed, the stamp carrying what you assumed was the royal crest on the design. He said not a word more than saying you should consider the offer, and to come to the palace tomorrow should you accept.
You did not end up going to the sweets shop, too curious of the letter.
You found the nearest place to sit, and carefully removed the wax seal, trying not to break it or tear the paper too much. While the seal managed to stay in one piece, the envelope was inevitably torn. With a sigh you took out the folded letter.
An invitation for a job.
You’d never received something like this. You’d seen past members of your troupe be invited into other circuses plenty of times, but never you.
But now, here you were, invited to be the court Fool. You’d been the circus’ jester many times, and you quite enjoyed it. The performance and the comedy went nicely together, sometimes you got to be quite the acrobat as you made jokes upon the stage. So, you assumed this would not be too different.
That, and the pay that was listed upon the paper made your eyes nearly pop out of your skull. The amount of coin you were paid now was hardly enough for food, but what you’d be paid in the King’s court would be enough to live in luxury after only a few months. And you certainly didn’t need a luxury life, plenty content with something maybe just a little better than what you had now.
You were going to take the job, you knew it.
So, the next day, you found yourself with a satchel that had your favorite jester costume, traversing the streets to go to the castle. The walk there was nothing to comment on, the day was bright and happy with birdsong, people bustling about. You did recall seeing a cat on the way, and having reached down to pet it. It had purred and nudged its head against your hand.
A happy day.
The castle was not what you had expected. It stood out with an odd gloom to it despite how lively the actual castle was, but it seemed to cry to you “Don’t come this way, go back, this place is not for you.”
You did not listen to the castle. You went up, approaching one of the guards and showing the letter you had been given. At that, you were granted entrance and the metal gate was opened with the squeak of old hinges.
Without a clue of what to do, you found yourself just… standing there, for a moment. There were more metal men around the castle grounds than in the town, the grounds practically teeming with automatons.
One came up to you, rolling on wheels instead of walking like some of the others. It was odd. It had no expression, just a placid smile designed on its face as well as white rings for eyes that stared a little too intently. When it cocked its head at you, you showed it the letter and told it what you were here for - to be the Fool.
You would have thought those eyes held pity for a moment.
The automaton was quick to lead you, a cold metal hand taking your own with a gentleness you wouldn’t have thought possible from something inhuman. You followed without a word.
The bot led you into the castle, the colorful decorations and stained glass of the windows giving a cheery feel to the place, despite the looming cold. You focused more on the pretty colors and happy faces of other automatons. The castle had a few of the more advanced metal men who walked on legs and had faces that were not so static.
Turning a corner, another automaton bumped into you. The moment lasted but a second, but it felt longer as yellow eyes shone down on you, bright enough to be a torch, a shawl covering the rest of the automaton’s face.
And they were gone.
You were tugged along by the bot whose hand held your own so gently, until you found yourself before a throne.
You found it all quite weird in that moment. But who were you to question the workings of a castle in a foreign kingdom?
On the throne sat a gaunt-looking man, with eyes that sent a chill down your spine. He seemed so out of place in the joyful castle.
“And you are the Fool?” He had asked you, startling you out of your staring as you bowed. This must be the King, you were quick to realize.
“Yes, your highness.” Your voice was meek, much to your chagrin. You would have wanted to sound more confident, more proud to be working in the King’s court, but those eyes… The way he looked at you felt so very wrong.
“What an interesting way you’ve let your cards fall.” He spoke.
What an interesting way you’ve let your cards fall.
You didn’t know what to think of the statement. It just seemed so odd. But the King continued on before you could think much else about it.
“You will observe the Jesters today. Tomorrow you shall start. For now, you will be escorted to your new quarters, and will be collected when it is time.”
And that was all.
The expressionless bot from before took your hand again and guided you away.
===
Hours later, you were retrieved from your room. It was a modest room, but luxurious compared to your previous sleeping situation with the circus troupe. Then, you had shared a tent with two other members of the troupe, and the little sleeping cot was not too good on your back.
You were brought to the court, sat down where you could clearly see but not be seen by the court, where you were but an observer to a show.
That was when you saw them.
That was the night where you were infatuated.
Two jesters - one who was bright with oranges and yellows and whose cowl had seven points all ending in little bells, who seemed to frolic upon the stage with a cheer and a jingle, his garish outfit fitting all too perfectly, and another who was dark and elegant with blues and whites and blacks that held little stars on the fabric of his pants and two-pointed cowl. The ends of his cowl were long enough to reach his hips and the red ruffles on the hem of his pants, similar to the ruff around his neck. Both jesters had ruffles of the same color, you noted. The darker of them danced about the stage like a cat, the softest little rings coming from the bells on his cowl and his wrists.
The Sun and The Moon, you were quick to think. One bright as day one dark as night.
Both unfairly beautiful.
They were both automatons, that was easy to tell, a pair near identical to each other in build, slim at the waist as if corseted to the high heavens and taller than any man you’d seen before. The Sun had eyes like pearls, completely white and without a pupil, meanwhile The Moon’s eyes were like rubies with a white ring for pupils.
It occurred to you, in that moment, that you probably shouldn’t be able to see those pupils from where you were sitting.
The Moon was staring right at you, those eyes like precious jewels were on you. The Sun was looking elsewhere, but The Moon looked only at you.
They performed. You thought you had known what it meant to be a Jester, but in this castle, it was an art like no other. A performance that unraveled more like a theatre act, with plenty of tricks you were familiar with from the circus - shows of acrobatics, flexibility, contortionism too.
Their movement was an art rivaled by none. You knew it in your heart, your soul, every bit of flesh and blood and sinew and fat and bone in your body knew it to be true. These metal men were artists and art in their own rights and no form of media could ever try to capture them or rival them.
They were everything - graceful, flitting angels of metal twisted and turned their beautiful bodies in ways that reminded you of the wind, or when smoke curls through the air, or when birds flutter about in the sky, or when eels travel the waters with their slippery writhing that seems to look so elegant, or maybe they were like the flow of blood in the body.
Yes, that was it. Blood flow. It was a simple explanation as to why: you needed it. You felt as if you might die without the movement of those metal Jesters. Infatuation reared behind your teeth, aching to gnaw and bite and consume them so wholly that you might never crave anything again. You wanted nothing but them to fill your senses, your eyes forever caught on their visage, the sound of their voices and their bells in your ears, your smell overwhelmed by their own, your touch on the metal and silicone of their bodies, and your taste on whatever they might be so kind as to give you.
It was unhealthy, you knew it, to be so enamored with only one performance. You could cry, though. You could wail and howl and scream with how beautiful they were. You could become a priest and prophet of the two gods that those Jesters must be, because their beauty could not exist in anything but the heavens, you believed. You would do naught but worship The Sun and The Moon with such feverish adoration that perhaps you would burn from the inside out, like a star.
They were so beautiful. You craved them, craved for the eyes of The Moon to remain upon you and perhaps for the eyes of The Sun to join them. You could reduce yourself to pathetic displays if only they would gaze at you.
And they were adored.
The audience was entranced, but none so much as you. They laughed and whooped with joy and amusement as the Jesters did their act.
You could hardly pay attention to the act, because you were so focused on the very Jesters themselves, the way their metal bodies twisted and moved in a manner so gracefully inhuman. You were positively entranced, it was easy to say.
And throughout it all, you had the eyes of The Moon on you.
The performance ended with a flourish, and it ended much too soon for your liking. You would have adored to watch them perform again and again and again.
But alas, all was finished, and tomorrow you’d be upon the stage with them.