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Most in Carcosa would agree that their King had very strange interests.
Of course, none would dare question him or voice their curiosity, but heads had turned when all of a sudden a Jester started being present by the King’s side at nearly at all times.
The jester clearly wasn’t originally from the Dreamlands, far too humanoid in appearance besides the translucent, green, slime-like quality to his skin. But that by itself wasn’t enough to garner much more than a few surprised glances— after all, the Dreamlands were easily accessible from most worlds, and otherworldly travelers weren’t that surprising.
What shocked people was how much that one, measly jester was allowed to get away with. The King was hardly considered benevolent, and few were given leeway if they stepped out of line.
However, the jester seemed to run miles out of line and still would be dismissed with only a mildly annoyed look or being restrained by tentacles to get him to stop misbehaving, to which the jester would squirm and fight endlessly before giving up and silently sulking until he was let go.
For some reason, that jester was allowed to disregard every word their King said and be let off with barely a slap on the wrist.
So, during one of the few occasional the jester actually decided to perform, safe to say he got a few suspicious looks from the members of the court when said performance contained the act of juggling knives. Avery, however, ignored their stares, knowing they meant nothing— not as if anyone could do anything with the King a few feet away.
He focused on the repetitive action of the knives rising and falling in the air, vaguely listening to one of the courtiers drone on, and attempting to listen for a moment when the King would have his guard dropped.
Finding an opportunity in a moment where the King went to respond to a courtier, Avery caught one of the knives and moved to throw it directly at the King before anyone could react.
It embedded itself in the King’s throat with a squelch.
Avery didn’t react yet, continuing to stare at the knife that disappeared into pitch black, abyss-like skin that seemed to absorb any light that tried to reflect off it. Then, he raised his gaze toward the King’s face, staring into the eye holes of the pristine white mask it wore.
The members of the court gasped, but neither of the two paid any mind to their horrified expressions.
Quite anticlimactically, the King breathed out a noise that was almost a laugh— or perhaps a fond sigh —before plucking the knife from his throat with ease. “Knives this time? How… uninspired. Although, you did surprise me with the suddenness, I suppose.”
“Not as though there’s much room for creativity here, your majesty,” the words sounded forced, a strained smile appearing on Avery’s face as ire burned behind his eyes. “With the tight leash you keep on me.”
He got quite a few appalled glances from the court at that, but Avery payed no mind to them.
All he got in response was a drawn-out hum from the King, almost amused sounding. That heavy, intense gaze seemed to surround Avery for a long moment, enough for Avery to feel awfully like a bug beneath a microscope.
Then, it turned away, the King’s attention briefly given to his court for one simple statement, “you all are dismissed. Go.”
With some murmurs of respect and bows from the members of the court, they quickly all flooded out, some looking tense, some almost vindicated— as if they thought Avery would finally be punished for his impudence.
They were fools.
However, those fools were also the only ones that kept Avery able to ignore the King’s looks. Now that the two of them were left alone, Avery was forced to meet its gaze— he did so without hesitation, unafraid to let his resentment slip into his expression.
“The knife was a good effort, given your lack of options,” the King remarked as if praising a pet for doing a simple trick. “It was better than the poisoned wine and the fire you started in the theater… that was quite a hassle to fix.”
“Ah. You did notice those, then,” Avery remarked, hands twitching slightly before he crossed his arms, digging his nails into his skin to hide the trembling.
“Did you think anything would escape my notice within my own realm, my jester?” The King openly sounded amused now, and Avery openly scoffed.
“I’m optimistic, thought that maybe you’d be too focused admiring your own reflection,” Avery remarked with a forced, sharp smile.
He only got a laugh in return, and Avery shuddered slightly at the echoing noise.
Then, with only a faint shift of his golden cloak as warning, tentacles wrapped around Avery’s ankles, climbing up his legs slightly. He yelped, stumbling forward as the tentacles pulled him in order to not fall face-first onto the ground.
A large hand with sharpened ends grasped his chin gently— he was always gentle, treating Avery as if he was made of glass. And he couldn’t help but resent those careful touches, almost preferring if it would just be cruel and harsh as it is with everyone else. But no, he was treated as if he was a pet— a bird, perhaps, fragile and meant to be kept safely in a cage.
Avery hissed through his teeth, but it was more panicked than aggressive, looking up at the King, uncertain of what his own expression even was at this moment— whether rage or fear prevailed. Avery wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“Tell me, do you enjoy the thrill of bloodshed, or is it simply me you despise so?”
Avery took a breath to calm his racing heart, although his voice still shook slightly. “Does it matter?”
“Not in the slightest.”
The king’s face wasn’t visible, hidden beneath an abyssal shadow and an ornate mask— but Avery was certain he could hear the grin in its tone.
Avery’s hands twitched, resisting the urge to just strangle the smug bastard where he stood. He doubted it would work, anyway. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment before looking up at the King with an annoyed, faux-disinterested expression, “are you going to kill me or can I leave now?”
“Do you desire for me to kill you?” The King asked back in favor of granting the jester permission. Tentacles spread further up his legs, their hold tighter— possessive. “Is that your wish, my jester?”
“My wish is freedom,” Avery snapped, unable to prevent the annoyed expression on his face. “If death it was it takes to get that freedom…”
“That’s unfortunate, then,” the King murmured, although there were still traces of amusement in his tone, and Avery bristled at the mockery. “You’re far too entertaining. I couldn’t possibly replace you.”
“I’m sure you could,” Avery mumbled back bitterly, nails digging into the palm of his hands hard enough to hurt.
“Hm, yes, but they wouldn’t be you, would they, pet?”
Avery’s gaze snapped back up with renewed vitriol at the petname, but he bit his tongue before any of his words could spew out. Stubbornly silent, he glared at the King, awaiting his permission to leave. He loathed listened to what that bastard said, but knew he would simply be dragged back if he tried to leave on his own.
With a sigh that was half-exasperation and half-fondness, the King waved his hand in dismissal, unwinding his tentacles from Avery’s legs as they disappeared back beneath his cloak.
With that, Avery turned on his heel and left— he didn’t quite stomp, but it was a near thing as he muttered insults beneath his breath, loud enough that he knew the King would hear.
The King rolled his eyes, feeling a small grin tugging on his face. He awaited what cute, pathetic attempt at ended his life Avery would try next.