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“And- you are?”
“At your service, my lord.”
Branzy grinned. He shouldn’t, but he did. It was immature, and don’t much befit his status, but Kaboodle would approve, and Ivory would tell him to stick it to everyone who wanted him to act humble.
He didn’t need to be humble. He was the freaking king, and he was a good one.
The lady curtseyed, and Branzy remembered Ivory’s coaching just in time, reaching out his hand. She took it, pressing a kiss to the back of his palm, and Branzy forced himself to pretend that that felt like a normal thing to do in the slightest.
Not that he’d know. Etiquette was hard. Clown helped with some of it, but Kaboodle told him Clown only knew court manners to subvert them in the most egregious way possible. So, he went to Ivory, who actually cared for these things, even if she knew roughly as much as he did.
Now, Branzy just had to really, really hope that it all paid off. This was being thrown in the deep end and then some, hosting a welcoming party for various important people in celebration of his own coronation.
Clown had organised most of it. With increasing bitterness, Branzy had sensed, but he’d been a bit too busy to stop and fret over his jester as well as himself. As everyone kept telling him, he had to be perfect.
Perfect clothes, a white dress shirt with Clown and Ivory-approved accessories in the form of various ruffles and some kind of deep purple ribbon wrapped around his waist, peeking out over the leather belt that looked a little warlike, in Branzy’s opinion, but he wasn’t going to argue.
He had leather boots, too, which was nice. And his hair was combed, and styled, and he’d been told to smile and act charming and confident.
He didn’t quite feel like himself, but whoever he was pretending to be, Branzy was growing to like. He could play the king. Easy. This was easy.
“Your majesty.” Ashswag bowed low, smiling in something between genuine pleasure and a grimace, gesturing for someone beside him to approach. “An envoy.”
Graciously, Branzy nodded, regretting getting up to socialise at all. Kaboodle had mentions it wouldn’t be frowned on to take individual audiences, but Branzy had dismissed it. Better to get it all over with at once.
And he was almost getting into it. Almost. It was taking a while, but Branzy was relaxing into every handshake and brush of lips against his knuckles.
It helped to have people with him. Ivory wasn’t, of course, she couldn’t be seen somewhere like this. Kaboodle was, somewhere, but Branzy hadn’t seen her since the sun had been high in the sky.
Ashswag was here. Branzy didn’t really know him, but he was another familiar face to add to the count, which was nice.
He met the eyes—or tried to—of a young man wearing strange metal-rimmed glass over his eyes, tinted almost solid black. Branzy stared, for a moment, then nodded, and held out his hand with a small, bewildered laugh.
“Nice to- to meet you. What are those?”
Not the right move. He should ask for a name, or a title, or a station. But Branzy was intrigued. Particularly when the man grinned, shaking his hand firmly, wearing an impressive scarlet getup. Branzy almost wanted to ask where he had it dyed.
“Glasses. New fashion.”
Ashswag looked displeased. Not unhappy, but definitely annoyed. Branzy noticed, his eyes flicking over, brow furrowing slightly.
“Everything ok?”
“This is Lord Reddoons, your majesty. He was… meant to introduce himself.”
They must have a history. Judging by the taunting grin Reddoons cast over his shoulders, just to received a scathing glare back. Branzy relaxed, laughing.
“I don’t mind. Lucky for you. What- why are you here for, then, Lord?”
Just titles was fine. Branzy didn’t need to use my, or gracious. Just the barest recognition of an inferior status.
“To meet you, King.” Reddoons seemed far too comfortable here, going so far as to pat Branzy’s shoulder like old friends. “And to ensure my estate’s trade will remain at the forefront of ongoing business.”
“He sells luxuries.” Ashswag’s eye roll was practically audible, and his glare hadn’t let up. “And-“
“And crops. And anything you might need, my King.”
Another bow, this one even more exaggerated. Branzy was beginning to feel mocked. Theoretically, he could execute Reddoons for that, but, in practice, Ashswag would likely either be too happy or upset about the idea, and it would be a logistical nightmare.
“I- I’ll keep you in mind.” Trying for a charming sort of uncertainty, Branzy nodded his appreciation as Reddoons straightened, and adjusted his own collar prosaically. “For all ongoing- talks.”
He didn’t know what talks might be ongoing. It didn’t really matter.
To Branzy’s surprise, Kaboodle caught his eye, making her way through the crowd behind a young noble lady dressed in an orange dress with a deep green sash holding it around her waist. They were both giggling, as the lady appeared beside Ashswag, whose frown dropped the moment his eyes found her.
“Hey, honey…”
“Love, I’m talking to the King.” Voice soft, Ashswag seemed to think Branzy couldn’t hear him. He could. He was watching in interest, in fact. “Maybe later?”
“Oh, yeah, I brought… Kab!”
Waving her over, Kaboodle approached, with the decency to look a little abashed, but still as brazen as Branzy expected of her.
“King Branzy.” She curtseyed, and cursed, in the manner of someone a little too imbibed to know their own lack of coordination. “Squiddo, we shouldn’t- sorry. I just wanted to ask if… uh…”
“Something about him.” Squiddo waved vaguely upwards, clinging happily to Ashswag’s unprotesting arm. “The one that was there.”
It could be assassins. Branzy could feel his blood draining from his face, eyes darting upwards, then around, in search of Leo. Kaboodle would be no help. She’d warned him, though.
The idea of assassination had been haunting Branzy, recently. He’d asked for some statistics, and regretted it, after he’d stayed up a whole night fretting. He’d immersed himself in the castle household, he wasn’t sure if they’d be able to recover if he died without warning, and besides, he didn’t much want to die either.
Branzy had nearly gotten himself all of the way to panic, before Kaboodle straightened, and pulled herself together.
“Clown. Have you seen Clown?”
Oh. Oh, that was so much better.
And a rather good question, now it occurred to him. Branzy frowned, looking around as his heart rate returned to normal, finding no familiar trace of a grinning mask or silent bells moving catlike up the walls.
“No… should I have?”
“Not sure. He just- kinda disappeared. Half an hour ago?”
That had been when Branzy had started meeting people. When he’d been distracted.
He really hoped nothing had happened to his jester.
Still, there was nothing to be done about it right now. Branzy couldn’t leave, there was nothing that would excuse him going hounding after staff, and even asking someone else to go searching might seem odd. It didn’t really matter that Clown was meant to be here, technically, to entertain and amuse. Branzy had accepted he worked on his own terms.
“Huh.” Branzy stared, blankly, at Kaboodle, for a moment too long, then frowned. “Could- could you…”
“I can send Leo?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Cool. Squidd- oh, oh, nope.”
In unison, Kaboodle and Branzy looked over at where Squiddo had somehow coaxed Ashswag into kissing her, apparently everywhere on her face apart from her lips, and they both caught the eye of Reddoons, now looking nearly as put-off as Ashswag had a moment ago.
“I’m… going to find whatever she’s been having.” Reddoons sighed, and patted Ashswag’s shoulder on his way past. “God knows we all need it.”
Branzy didn’t bother sticking around to watch. He had better things to be doing.
Leaving Ashswag and Squiddo to whatever the hell that was, Branzy wandered off again, only to have someone fall to their knees close enough to his feet that he nearly tripped on them.
“My liege- I was looking for an audience, but-“
“-What?”
Branzy’s mind felt like it had gone blank. Random person. Knees. Was he meant to do something about this?
Apparently not, because guards appeared behind them, pulling them to their feet as Branzy watched in utter confusion. He hadn’t been prepared for this one.
“Wait.” Stepping forward, he tried to meet their eyes, but they looked a little hazy. “What’s-?”
“Nothing you need to worry about, mi’lord.”
Whatever else he might have been about to say died in his throat. Branzy had barely even processed what was going on at all, when the stranger had vanished along with the guards, and he was considering going after Reddoons in search of something to excuse why his head felt so cluttered.
Nothing to do but carry on.
The next pair Branzy encountered was a lady dressed in pink who bowed low, then kissed his cheek anyway, in a flagrant show of disrespect Branzy didn’t much mind, but her companion seemed to die of mortification from.
She introduced herself as Jumper, and her friend as Minute, and it had taken Branzy a humiliatingly long time to place him as another of his generals. And Leo’s friend. He hadn’t been left feeling great about that one.
Still, he’d been polite, civil, shaking Minute’s hand and promising he didn’t mind at all. They’d moved on, and Branzy had received a few more bows and an impressive array of titles before the flow seemed to ebb.
He was exhausted. And still no Clown, which was beginning to nag at him. Branzy’s back hit a wall, and he seriously considered sliding down it for half a second, as he let out a breath, and let his thoughts spiral around the whereabouts of his jester.
He hadn’t seen Leo. He’d caught glimpses of Kaboodle, mostly alongside Squiddo, a strong suggestion she wasn’t capitalising on the opportunity of torturing her brother by forcing him to socialise outside his own constructed rules. Branzy wondered if she’d forgotten.
He could do with having Clown with him right now. If this was being thrown in the deep end, Branzy felt a hell of a lot like he was drowning, with how his head was spinning with the weight of so many names and titles and praise heaped on him in a way that didn’t sound the slightest bit genuine.
Everyone was being so nice. Reddoons perhaps excluded, Branzy couldn’t think of a single length that these people hadn’t thrown themselves through to lavish their admiration for him onto his already-overwhelmed attention span.
At some point, Branzy had just started nodding. Laughing when they laughed, letting his eyes glaze over a little as he maintained eye contact—important, apparently—and looking like he was being attentive. It seemed to work a treat.
People kept following him, too. People trying to flirt with him, maybe. Kaboodle hadn’t prepared him for that one, so Branzy was ignoring them. Ivory had mentioned it, and sniggered. She’d said he wouldn’t get any of the ladies.
Branzy was, for the first time in his life, beginning to suspect Ivory might have lied to him.
But yeah, there were people, constantly at his shoulder, trying to hang on his arms or make him laugh. Some of them managed it. Some of them Branzy managed to detach before they got halfway.
It was getting hectic. Branzy was tired. He wasn’t sure how much longer this would have to go on for. If it was much longer, he might be forced to start flirting back.
Someone appeared next to him, Jumper, again, it turned out, who cheerfully handed him a bread roll. Branzy smiled his thanks, their hands brushing as he took it, and glanced over to see Minute hurrying back over, Leo at his side.
“Your- majesty, sir.” Minute bowed, low, cheeks burning as he stared at the floor. “Sorry about- Jumper, could you-“
“It- it’s fine.” Branzy laughed, exhausted, but waving for Minute to relax. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Have you seen Clown?” Leo got straight to the point, while Minute continued to look mortified and Jumper slipped back over to his side. “Because I saw him for all of thirty seconds, and he looked pissed.”
Branzy’s stomach turned. Maybe the bread wasn’t the best idea. Or maybe he should have eaten more already.
“Where- where was he?”
“Going somewhere. At a guess. I wasn’t about to get near him to check.”
At least he was alive. Branzy had been busy, way too busy to devote any real thought, but it had been a nagging worry all evening.
“Would it be- horrific, and awful, if I just…” Branzy waved his hand, wincing at the note of pleading in his voice, as he looked up at Leo. “Left?”
In fairness to him, it was only partially to go find Clown. Branzy also just needed a break. Like, he’d needed a break before people had started passing out drunk. He’d been running on nothing for what felt like a lifetime.
Leo glanced around, then shrugged.
“Yeah. But no one really minds. You make the rules.”
Branzy was going to take that at face value.
“Ok. I- I’m gonna go then. Thanks for.. the bread.”
He nodded a thank you, and gave Minute another reassuring smile as he pushed himself up the wall, and wandered away. Branzy didn’t let anyone talk to him, head up but eyes on the floor as he walked purposefully to the doors, and out, not even meeting the eyes of the guards on either side.
Not a dozen paces later, Branzy was shocked out of his own greying exhaustion by a blur of crimson and black dropping directly in front of him.
“C- Clown-?”
Clown straightened, and would you look at that, Leo was right. He looked murderous. Even with a mask on, it was something in his posture. Something in the tilt of his head, as he glared at Branzy, then turned, and walked straight off.
“Hey- Clown!”
Clown stopped. Dead still, visibly breathing. That was weird. He normally didn’t give anything away, least of all any implication he was anything less than an automaton.
Branzy hurried to close the distance again, catching Clown’s arm in the same way his had been held by a thousand ladies in the past hour.
“Where were you? No- no one’s seen you all evening, what-“
“I didn’t want to disturb you, your majesty.”
Branzy froze. His throat tightened painfully, and so did his chest, with something between anger and guilt. Clown sounded cold. He was normally burning hot, bringing his own fire wherever he went, but now his voice was empty.
“You were meant to be-“
“You’re meant to flirt back with them. You know. Keeps up the image of an unmarried king. If you don’t, people might start thinking you have someone else.”
It could have been a joke, if Clown had been speaking like he usually did. But there was nothing, just cold, biting emptiness, delivered with all the charm and personality of a common soldier.
Branzy could feel something burning, inside him.
“I am. I just didn’t want to- you weren’t even there!” Branzy didn’t want to raise his voice, but he was, because Clown didn’t get to complain about him not being sociable enough, when he hadn’t even been there to help. “No one- no one told me! How am I- how am I meant to know this stuff, when you’re not even there to do your whole freaking job?”
He didn’t want to be angry. He wasn’t angry. He was just tired, and hungry, and the bread roll was crushed to crumbs in his fist as Branzy glared at his jester, trying to breathe steadily and not start crying, for some stupid reason.
They were in the middle of a hallway. They shouldn’t be here.
“…If you want to yell at me.” Clown spoke flatly, somehow even more so, carrying straight on even as Branzy opened his mouth again. “I’m going somewhere private.”
And somehow, Clown could still read his mind. Branzy closed his mouth, and nodded, cheeks flushed and feeling weirdly awake again.
Neither of them took the lead, as they walked through the corridors. Sometimes Clown did, when Branzy got lost. Or sometimes Branzy did, when Clown just wanted to tail him like the ominously lighthearted guard dog he was.
Now, they walked side by side, and Branzy noticed Clown’s footsteps perfectly synced to his, and his jester stared blankly ahead.
He wanted to say something. But he was still angry, and probably was going to carry on being, if he didn’t pass out as soon as they stopped walking.
Really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise, when Clown held open Branzy’s own bedroom door, eyes fixed on him with a strangely detached intensity. Branzy lingered, for a moment, and apparently that wasn’t the right choice.
“Private.” Clown gestured, like Branzy was an idiot, indescribably tense as he spoke like a man possessed.
Something stopped Branzy fighting Clown, on this one. Maybe it was the edge of need, the way all of Clown’s energy seemed to be pouring into staying as close to him as possible.
Branzy walked in, and heard the door click behind him, and tried to take a breath, and calm down.
“Ok. Where- where were you?”
He didn’t turn around. He didn’t hear Clown approaching behind him.
Branzy just felt silk gloves against his shoulder, and flinched on instinct, even as Clown rubbed circles across his shoulder blade, and spoke in a voice halfway to approaching normality.
“Watching. Do you want me to lie to you?”
“No? Why- Clown, w- why would you lie to me?”
Branzy didn’t like how betrayed he sounded. He could threaten Clown for it, order him to tell the truth. But betrayed was what he felt, and he was a little too tired to be guarded right now.
“You might not like my answers.” There was the barest hint of a smirk, as Clown moved down his back, running fingertips down Branzy’s spine until he hissed in the sparking feeling of human contact. “There’s a reason no one found me.”
“And- and that is-?”
“I didn’t want them to. Want to sit down?”
It wasn’t asked like a question. It caught Branzy off guard, because this was Clown, and if he was giving orders—rare—he didn’t bother to ask about it.
There wasn’t much to lose. Branzy had the strangest feeing that, tired and twitchy and frustrated as he was, he had more control over himself.
“Sure. Wh-“
“Here.”
Clown pushed him down by his shoulders, and Branzy’s head spun a little as he nearly collapsed to the floor, caught just a moment later by his jester, setting him down gently and lingering as close as possible.
“C- Clown, I don’t think I like this… this. What’s going on?”
Before he got an answer, Branzy’s breathing stalled in his chest, as Clown climbed over him, shoving his legs down and kneeling over them, guiding Branzy to lean back on the baseboard of his bed.
This wasn’t normal-Clown behaviour. It was the only reason Branzy was frozen, because this was out of character, and it was because it was Clown, and he’d hear Clown out longer than most of his advisors.
“I am… very emotional.” Sighing, Clown leaned closer, running his hands down Branzy’s arms, like he was trying to wipe away all the lingering touches. “Right now.”
“I- I couldn’t tell.”
He really couldn’t. If this was Clown emotional, Branzy didn’t understand him at all.
“No. You can’t.”
“W- why?”
“I don’t… know.” Clown sighed again, this time in bitterness, and his mask twitched upwards, eyes meeting Branzy’s. “You wanted to yell at me.”
“No, I- I didn’t…”
It was a weak protest, but Branzy was more intrigued than anything, and his irate exhaustion had tipped over into the desire to just relax, now he was in his bedroom, with Clown near.
“I’ll do it, then.” Clown leaned backwards, his gaze tangibly sliding down, like he was searching for something on Branzy’s body. “I should have been there. And Kaboodle probably threw a fit because I vanished.”
“More- more Leo, actually.” Branzy smiled, hopefully, trying to find common ground. “It’s okay. I just- I just missed you. Nearly sent people looking.”
At that one, Clown froze, head snapping back up. Branzy felt like a rabbit hearing a twig break, frozen for no good reason.
“You…” Clown buffered, for a moment, then shook it off, voice softening by a noticeable fraction. “You shouldn’t do that.”
“Yeah, I- I figured.” Mentioning that seemed to have helped something, so Branzy tried for something else. “I was- I was thinking about you?”
Clown was touching him again. Picking up his hands, like he knew where people had been kissing him, for some reason—he probably did, if he had been watching—and running his fingers across Branzy’s skin.
He didn’t say anything. Branzy took that as encouragement, actually. Clown seemed a little more relaxed. Maybe he’d been worrying, just as much as Branzy had.
It seemed safe to ask, just for now.
“So- what’s wrong?”
Branzy felt he deserved that one, given he wasn’t protesting, as Clown continued to quietly examine his body like he was some kind of doll.
“Lots of people touching you.” Clown spoke calmly, softly, like it was all perfectly reasonable. “I… thought you might not be prepared.”
“A- and?”
Branzy was pretty sure Clown shot him a look, and grinned right back.
“And… look, Branzy-“
“And?”
“And I… didn’t like it.”
Clown sounded immensely reluctant to say it at all, but his grip on Branzy’s hand said otherwise. Branzy felt his smile freeze, then soften, then he laughed, just a little.
“Mhm? Why didn’t you-“
“Because I didn’t want to interrupt.” Suddenly, Clown was all business again, turning Branzy’s hand over to press the pad of his thumb into his palm. “You seemed busy.”
“Really?”
Another sharp look. Branzy didn’t mind. He was so, so tired, but this was worth it. Worth it to catch Clown vulnerable, for once.
“I… thought it might not be taken well. A king is meant to-“
“Socialise?”
“-with people apart from his jester, yes.” Shaking his head, Clown chuckled, softly. “And you did an… impressive job of that.”
“Wait- seriously?”
“From what I could see.” Clown shrugged, and switched to Branzy’s other hand, apparently determined to rub over everywhere anyone else had touched him. “Admirable, at least. For a beginner.”
“Hey-“
Clown’s grip on his hand tightened, and Branzy’s outraged protest died in his throat. It was instinctive. He didn’t want to disturb Clown, and it was a justified snark, so Branzy just took it, grumbling quietly.
“I wish… I wish I could tell you not to do it again.” Clown was back to that eerie calm, like he was hiding something, measuring his words to keep any real emotion from shining through. Lilting. It was kind of pretty, if it hadn’t been so unsettling. “But you do need to.”
“If you- if you were there…” Branzy could sense Clown was going to push back on this one, but he carried on regardless, advancing cautiously through unknown territory. “I wouldn’t have to. As much. Socialise, and- and that.”
“What, I’d be your intermediary?”
“Mhm. You- you can talk to people. And if you- if you don’t want me to talk to them- that’s less people for me to talk to, so… yay.”
Clown stared at him like he’d gone insane. Branzy felt a little insane. The people here made no sense, he didn’t know if he’d just reinvented everything or violated every sacred law around here.
Clown was still holding his hand. Branzy was wondering if time had frozen, because he could feel his heart beating, but nothing else seemed to be moving.
“…You’ll regret that.”
“Not if I- if I have you.”
“No, you will regret that. I’m… infuriating, by all accounts.”
“Not mine.”
“I don’t need power, if you don’t want me to…” Clown trailed off, clearly sensing Branzy’s immediate confusion, and shook his head again, like he was trying to shake something off. “Send for me. If you really want me there.”
“Or… you- you could just be there. I don’t mind.”
According to Ashswag, Branzy was doing pretty well. As long as he kept everything else running smoothly, surely no one could begrudge him a little less socialising.
And according to himself, he wanted desperately for Clown to never have to look at him like this again, with a lost kind of reluctant helplessness. Could he get what he wanted, these days? Because people told him he could.
“You’d mind.”
“I- I wouldn’t.” Branzy put some firmness behind his voice, sitting up abruptly enough that Clown paused, and withdrew his hands with a chastened calm. “This isn’t- this isn’t your choice, Clown. You can- you stay with me. And- be miserable about it, I don’t care. I- I’m telling you.”
It felt risky. Branzy came out of it holding his breath, eyeing Clown with determination yet nervousness. It wouldn’t upset him. Not really. Branzy knew him, he knew Clown was avoiding accepting a solution to his unadmitted problem.
Still, it was dizzying, to put his word out there like it was law. It felt easier in procedure, when he was signing off a charter, assuaging the population’s doubts. It was different, when it was Clown. It had always been taken as read that he did as Clown said. Branzy was the less experienced, the more willing to trust.
Now, the sight of Clown holding still and nodding quietly made Branzy’s throat twist. He hoped he’d done that right.
“Are- are you ok? Clown?”
“Yes.”
“Will you- do that? For- for me?”
“…If you want me to.”
“I- I do. I’m telling you to do it.”
Clown nodded again to himself, internalising it for a few seconds. It was strange, to see him so docile. Branzy wondered if he would always obey this easily, or if their emotions were just running high.
He could have reached out, and moved his jester as he pleased. Branzy was sure Clown would let him, too, even let him see his face, if that was what he really wanted. They were both high on realising exactly what Branzy could do, if he got it in his head to.
But Clown recovered before Branzy got any good ideas. It wasn’t visible, just a barely-audible exhale, and a straightening of his shoulders as the jester set them back where they were meant to be. Almost nothing, really, except now he looked bored, and above this mortal obedience again, and he was watching Branzy with an unplaceably wary emotion.
“Is that all, your highness?”
It was admiration. Branzy got it in one, smiling as he leaned back against the footboard of his bed, comfortably curled up in his own room and satisfied with his work. He shrugged, contentedly, and let his eyes linger, dragging across Clown like he was allowed to do anything he pleased.
“It- it’ll do. You stick with me. Whenever- whenever either of us want it.”
It would be always. Branzy had had a taste of what this life could be like unaccompanied, and he had no interest in it. If he could have Clown, he would. He could have anything.
Clown just nodded. Branzy grinned, and gestured with his hand, a sweeping motion towards himself, because words seemed inadequate, at this point.
“G- get over here.”
“Branzy-“
“Who’s the king again, Clown?”
Clown didn’t deign that one with an answer. Apparently, Branzy’s name was all he was interested in saying, crawling forward with impressively restrained reluctance.
He ended up where he was meant to be anyway, tugged face-first into a hug with his head pressed clumsily against Branzy’s shoulder. Their bodies collided messily, neither of them suited to this kind of contact, but neither of them were pulling away.
Clown, moreover, was lying very still, like a cat waiting to see if it needed to get up and bolt. Branzy was careful, too, his hands shaking as he dared to take the lead, forcing them as close as they could get to each other.
It was weird, for both of them.
“You- you can go. This bit isn’t- this is for fun.”
His voice was shaky, threaded with fear that Clown would take the offer and leave. That would be the worst outcome, when Branzy felt like exhaustion was rushing through his veins, filling in any space he’d convinced himself should be filled by enjoyment of the evening.
“I’m having fun.”
It was impossible to know, before Clown said so, but he seemed honest about it. It was in his tone of voice, a softness that was a whole new side to him. The way he turned a little, fixing Branzy’s mediocre arrangement with a few movements, so they were curled properly around each other.
Branzy breathed out a small laugh, petting Clown’s back gently.
“You’re- so cute when-“ He hesitated, and thought better, settling for pushing his luck just by stroking Clown a little more. “Cute.”
“I have become your lapdog recently, so…”
Giggling, Branzy wondered how far he could nudge this forward before something broke. In scientific curiosity, he trailed his fingers around the edge of Clown’s neck, and felt the jester begin to tense up.
“Wasn’t that the plan? Easy life, a royal under y- your thumb…”
Clown hummed, and it was drenched in displeasure, but it didn’t garner as bad of a reaction as Branzy would have expected to the borderline accusation of treason. It was more of a soft purr, thoughtful and a little distracted.
“Or- or is that done with, now?” Branzy leaned in a little closer, resting the side of his head against Clown’s and angling his face so he could still be heard. “I- I’m not that bad, am I? You like me.”
Irritation radiated from where Clown’s hackles felt raised, but even that couldn’t conceal his calm. He felt warm, in Branzy’s arms, and not a single thing he said seemed able to push the jester an inch away. Branzy wasn’t sure there was anything he could do, that would drive Clown away.
“Not evil.” Branzy nuzzled into Clown’s shoulder, dropping to a soothing kind of mumble. “Just- just my guard kitty. You just- want to keep me safe, don’t you?”
Either Clown didn’t know what to say to his demeaning cooing, or was actually checked out mentally. Either way, he was still compliant, like Branzy directing him removed the mortification of allowing himself to be controlled.
“I- I know you do.” Branzy squeezed Clown as best he could, tired and satisfied and warm. “I know, Clown. It’s okay.”