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[Ophelos's POV]

The King woke up as I entered the room, not because of me, I walked silent as the night. There was a flutter outside the window that proved to be a bird, which quickly flew away. The King shuffled, taking a moment to fully wake up as I opened up the curtains.

The windows in here were smaller, tall rectangles that would now allow a man to fit inside even if they were broken. They let less light inside, and their form reminded me of the bars of a cage, but they were expensive, and safe.

As I opened the curtain he sat upright, the cover falling away as he moved, he looked around and saw that his entertainer was gone and there was a spark or irritation in his eyes.

"He is flighty..." He said in a rumble, barely to be heard.

I moved away from the curtains to take in the breakfast a servant was holding outside of the door to the room. 

"Ophelos." He called me, his voice still very low from sleep.

I turned to face him completely and bowed low, a hand on my heart. "Yes, Your Majesty." I replied.

He said nothing for a moment, as he seemed to be busy thinking. I didn't move, it was hard, even, to breath in his presence. His personality was so strong that it sometimes felt as though he could fill a room with his emotion, his anger, his fierce enjoyment, his irritation.

And yet he was so dangerously difficult to understand, to predict.

"Where is he, the little..." He waved his hand about, his eyes on me. "The little man."

I bowed my head. "He has left, your majesty."

He stared at me. "Flighty isn't he."

I said nothing.

"Did he tell you where he was going?"

I saw the whip lying discarded on the floor, an expensive show whip that had definitely never been used by any owner before him, and certainly not on a man. The fact that the man had not left injured, that there was no blood on the sheets, it suggested he had either not used it at all or used it was such care that he had not broken skin at all.

I shook my head. "No sir, the Joker must have left early this morning, I was not here to see him leave when I arrived. I have Morten tailing him today, he has promised to give me a full report when he finally sleeps, you wanted to discuss the matters at hand, sir."

He was quiet for a moment, before he nodded, dragging the bed sheets off of himself entirely as he stood up from the bed, stretching his arms.

"Left early," He hummed. "I could have sworn he was just here. I felt him in my arms." He mused, turning to the bed and pressing his palm against the severely wrinkled white sheets of the bed. A slow smile on his face, the narrowed eyes completing a look of sly satisfaction.

My eyebrows furrowed but I said nothing. It was his choice, it was always ultimately his choice. The King had his say over everything, almost everything, and the only thin my position allowed was advice, and until he requested such a thing I would not be allowed to give it.

It was strange to see him so fascinated by a man. It was good. Such an infinitely lonesome man, cruel and cold and unfeeling. To see him enjoying something, anything really, what a strange, good thing.

Perhaps he was just looking for the drama in it all. Punishing him, reeling him in bound by string and... enjoying him. A bird that sings so sweet must bite. Perhaps he looked for that bite.

It was better not to think about it, not to look, the last words he had spoken to me when discussing the subject still fresh in my mind... But I knew that the next time I followed the gentle looking man, I would see the marks of whatever had happened in this room.

The ruffled covers, the unusually dishevelled appearance, the subtle scent that lingered in the room. It painted a murky picture of events unseen.

"Papers, Ophelos." He demanded, putting on loose trousers and slipping over his shoulders a loose shirt made of thin-fabric, which would normally be tied up at the sides or the back, but which he never did in private company with me. It made him look strange. The shiny black hair, demanding, cruel dark eyes, and perfect skin and teeth, they spoke of a rich man, a man born from a line of wealth, and the clothes resembled that of a drifter of sorts.

I bowed, and removed myself from the room, taking the tray and ordering the servant away, before returning.

He walked slowly to the sofa accompanying the tea table in the centre of the room, upon which I placed the items from the tray.

He eyed the tray, as usual he was quick to catch on. Under the doily I had placed the papers he had requested. To avoid anyone potentially following me to have any information to pass on any discussions we carried out were done in private, in every sense of the word.

I removed the doily and handed him the papers. Placing the tray on the tray stand. I hovered in front of him, my posture perfect and my hands behind my back.

He took it wordlessly, casting his gaze down the pages as he skimmed through the contents, his face impassive and unreadable.

"So you believe they wish to go to war?" He asked me with a voice just as difficult to read.

"It is of the opinion of the confidential high court that this is the case. Rebarber of Menoway has confided in me implicitly that war was the wish of the enemy."

"And the spider on my balcony has nothing to do with this?" He asked, the whites of his eyes catching the light as he looked at me.

I ringed my hands behind my back. "I..." Knew nothing about this man, did not know where he came from or where he went, and any attempts to find out had failed to find anything, and would likely find nothing more.

He waved his hand. "Fine." He slapped the papers on the expensive, thin marble table and moved towards the tea, pouring himself a cup. Despite knowing he did not like help for such things I couldn't help but inch towards him, the flash of gaze had me freeze and return, however.

"I was well aware our troubles would not be over, that I would have to return to the scene of their intrusion. One does not simply give land and sea rights in order for the lives of a few hundred men. One does not simply surrender even in the case of an amicable, beneficial result. That would go against the very institution they were indoctrinated under." He sneered, bringing the teacup to his lips, staring into the distance with a mocking gaze.

"Should I-"

He shook his head slowly. "I need more information, not more men, not yet. They appear to be trying slyer tactics. I have never fought such a war before but I have faith I will crush them just as I did on the shores of Menoway, even if in a much less flamboyant fashion." He smiled, a bitter gaze that informed me he was not looking forward to the war to come, a silent war was one that was not only difficult to fight but incomparably dull.

As my eyes wandered I noticed clothes on the floor, clothes that could never have belonged to the King and who could never belong to anyone else either.

I quickly returned my gaze to him, but it wasn't quick enough, his eyes flickered over to where I had been looking.

A sly smirk slipped onto his face. "Do you think I should return them, Ophelos?"

I froze, feeling slightly flushed in my face for a moment as I considered the bizarre scene such a thing would cause.

Then his expression soured, his eyes narrowed and he returned his gaze to the clothes, distastefully. "So what was he wearing when he left?" He asked me, or perhaps the room itself, as he wasn't looking in my direction and the room would be far better at being able to recount such a story.

He turned to me, expression still dark and irritated.

"Well..." I responded, trying to think of a response that would appeal to him as fast as I was able.

He glanced at his nails. "Infuriating little man. Makes me want to chase him down and trap him. Makes me want him to beg me not to let him go unclothed." He smiled slightly.

"Your Majesty..." I replied.

His eyes flickered up to mine. "Do the words I speak frighten you Ophelos." Those calculating eyes watched me carefully.

I shook my head. "No, Your Majesty." I clenched my hands. 

He laughed. "No, of course they don't." He cast a small bitter smile in my direction before returning his eyes to the clothes on the floor.

"Get him something better to wear, something that covers more of him." He demanded his voice expecting no reply. "Now. We can continue our discussion again during lunch when you have received your information from Cigol. He may have something more valuable to say than the empty words of my ministers and the crumbs of information my confidential high court send out to me."

I nodded quickly, and bowed, backing away towards the door.

"Something that he likes, that looks good on him." He added, his eyes off in the distance as he rose the teacup to his lips again. "Make sure it's soft." A glint in his eyes matched the wicked look in his eyes.

I tried not to read into those words, to take them as they were, looks and context aside. I wondered if Elpis knew what a strange, terrible web he may have wrapped himself up in. Most probably not, undoubtedly not.

[A/N] A list of amazing people? What a good question, I guess I'll name a few...

♆ Alaskan_Outsider ♆