Stay with me // dreamnotfound

008.

His days were passing by quicker, ever since he started practicing with the sword again. A part of him helt secure with it, and he was starting to build muscle once again which was good. Sapnap, as he was called, even seemed to be impressed by him and how far he had already gotten after just a couple of weeks.

At this point, they had even started to move up from gently hitting to actually sparring. It was a lot more fun, and the servant had not smiled this much in such a long time that it felt unreal. He had not felt as happy as he did whenever he got to practice with his new friend. He loved it, he loved it a lot. Although, the king, on the other hand, was keeping a close eye on him and watching from afar. Sometimes, the servant would catch him at the weirdest places possible.

Sometimes he looked at him from a window, at other times he would pretend to admire the garden when he was actually turning his head to look at the two whenever he thought no one was there to see. The servant always caught him, though, thinking about it quietly and never muttering a word about it.

Today, however, he was not able to turn to his daily practice. Today the king had ordered him to follow through with their morning meetings which he had not attended at all the last couple of months. If it was bad or not, the servant stood unknowing. He just prayed that there would not be a crisis going on that would make the meeting longer, or that they had to discuss some ignorant matters such as what they should focus on today in the kingdom. (Spoiler alert, it was always something in the terms of "should we send out a guard today or not" or "are there any criminals out there on the run"). He hated that part, for obvious reasons.

So, there he stood. In the corner as he had always done when he first got here and became the king's servant. So many people would have wished for his position, and he had overheard many of the girls (his sister included) in wanting to be a part of the royal palace and work there. He rolled his eyes at the memory. God, there's so much more to this place than money and fame.

The king looked odd today. His eyes were unfocused, and he did not seem to pay too much attention to what they were discussing. Instead, he was eyeing his servant in the corner, keeping a good look at him to make sure he kept his mouth shut and not moved. His clothes were heavy on his body, and it almost looked like whoever had dressed him today struggled with his attire since some buttons were not correctly positioned. The servant wanted to mock him for it, he had done a better job than whoever had done that.

Maybe it even had been the king himself, trying to live without his servant which he had dismissed way back. It was his own fault, since he had thought of himself too highly. It was embarrassing, because it seemed like he could not even dress himself properly anymore. It was a big, fat joke. It's a miracle no one was laughing.

"My king," one of the men said after a while, turning to look away from the table they surrounded. The king raised his head, looking at him. "Yes, you may speak." The guard (he guessed) swallowed hard before meeting the eyes of the royal man.

"It may be, for your best, to take back your servant in the morning. It does you no good in letting him do as he please, when he should be paying attention to your majesty." He bit his tongue, trying to not laugh at the point. The king made no move.

"As you wish, he shall return to his original duties. However, I do have the evidence to believe he may be good as more than a servant. I think that if you give him enough time, he should even be able to become my personal guard; such as my father had." This time, the servant almost choked on own spit, not truly believing what the king had just said. He? As a personal guard for the king? There must be hidden sarcasm hidden in that statement.

The guard raised an eyebrow. "That scrawny man? My apologies, but isn't he the one who could barely lift himself up when you accepted him?" It felt like he got stabbed in the heart, because yeah no fucking shit that he was weak when he first got out of the chamber, he had been tortured for way too long. It was a wonder he was even alive when he got out! And they want to bully him for his lost strength? These men were truly pathetic.

The king smiled, for the first time glancing over to his servant for the first time during these meetings. His blood turned cold as he felt the king's eyes on himself, and so he silently hoped that the next move would be a good one. "Meeting dismissed."

Everyone looked at each other, shook their heads before standing up and getting ready to leave. The servant stayed in his corner and the king did not look away from him even once. It almost felt like a challenge with how he was looking at him. The servant felt worried, his shoulders aching and his jaw tense from being too nervous. Maybe this would be over quick- maybe the king just wanted to tell him to work harder. Whatever it was that he wanted, he hoped it was not too bad.

When the last person closed the door behind themselves, the king stood up straight after having leaned on his hands placed on the table. The servant, too, stood up straight. He tried to look as intimidating as the king, mimicking his body language. And then, the king took a step towards him.

"You got something to prove." The king said, each step bringing him closer to his servant who stood in his corner. Their eyes were connected, and none of them were about to look away. The servant bit his lip, but the king only smiled at him. "They only see you as weak, someone I keep around out of pity. A dog."

Every word stung, but he had to keep his facade up. The king was not allowed to see the way it hurt to be viewed as nothing more than a rock in their shoe. He had survived the previous king, he had survived the chambers and the evil men back in the village. He knew better than what they had to say about him.

The king stretched out his arm, his hand slowly wrapping itself around his servant arm, grabbing ahold of his shirt and pulling it up. By doing so, he revealed the skin which was starting to get kissed by the sun from spending so many hours outside practicing. He was no longer the pale boy who had been brought in. Even his arms were more sculpted, showing vague lines of muscles.

The servant glanced at the king, silently asking him what the fuck he was doing. It was extremely improper, revealing skin just like that; even if it was only his arm. He was acting strange, and those dark eyes were looking straight into his soul. It frightened him. "They don't know that you've spent all those hours working on this. Although, I have."

His heart was beating fast in his chest, pounding as if to break his ribcage. His mind was running crazy, and breathing felt awful. What did he mean by that? What was the meaning of all of this?

The king grabbed the exposed skin, pulling him closer and against himself. He pressed his servant against his own chest, revealing their height difference. He hadn't thought about how small the king was in a while, since he looked so mighty from afar. But up this close, it was obvious the king was smaller than himself. The king's face was pressed against his back, his hands moving over his chest.

"So weak, and wounded. Bleeding all from here..." His hands moved all over him, and the servant felt the panic rise within him. He must be dreaming, he had to be. "To here." His hands moved over his sides, his throat, and along his jawline. The servant closed his eyes, letting the king violate his personal space.

Then, his hands moved away. "They think you're nothing, prove them wrong." The king backed away, and left the room. The servant slumped over the moment the door closed, heaving in air in his chest as he tried to collect himself.

He could still feel the ghost touches of the king on his body, the way those cold hands had moved over him, feeling him, following all of the lines on him and inspecting his body...

What the hell was that about that?