The King's Pet

Chapter 21

. ..𓂃 ྐ❤︎ 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 ´ཀ'

Bruce opened his eyes to see the early morning light filtering through the heavy drapes of his chamber. With a sigh, he slowly rose up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, slipping into his slippers before quietly padding across the wooden floorboards.

He stopped at the grand cupboard that dominated one wall of his chamber. It was an intriguing piece of furniture, made from dark oak and standing nearly as tall as the ceiling.

Bruce opened the heavy doors, revealing the vast amount of clothes within. It was filled with clothes for every occasion. On one side, rows of garments in bright, vibrant colors-emerald greens, royal blues, and deep purples-each layered with embroidery and precious stones. Next to them hung his formal robes made of gold and silver.

Further along was his collection of cloaks, each one lined with the thickest of furs to scare off the chill of winter. There were lighter garments too, for the warmer months-linen shirts in softer, less intense colors, perfect for days like gardening.

On the lower shelves, neatly folded, were his more every-day-to-day clothes. Boots of various styles and sizes lined the bottom, polished to a shrine, just how Bruce liked and expected them to be.

He ran his fingers over the fabrics, feeling the different textures. His hand paused over a dark, red robe-its fabric was soft yet perfect.

With a sigh, Bruce pulled it from the cupboard, knowing that no matter what he wore, the weight of his crown would always be the heaviest garment of all.

*

In the midst of changing, a knock at the door drew Bruce's attention.

"May I come in, Your Majesty?"

Bruce gave a soft grunt and called out, "Enter."

His trusty advisor pushed open the doors, entering the room. The man hesitated, his eyes meeting Bruce's briefly before looking away. "There's news from the council. They request your presence."

"Of course they do," Bruce muttered, tying the robe around his waist. "They can't seem to function without me."

He sighed and glanced up, seeing his reflection in the mirror-noting the disheveled hair and the dark circles under his eyes.

"Nothing says 'kingly' like a man who looks like he just crawled out of a crypt."

Bruce's advisor shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to respond to his sarcasm. "It's urgent, sire," the man added, almost apologetically.

Bruce rolled his eyes, turning away from the mirror.

"Lead the way, Walter." Bruce said, tightening the robe's sash. "Let's see what mess they need me to clean up this time."

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