The King's Pet

Chapter 27

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

"Are you certain you wish to attend the council meeting in your condition, sire?
Perhaps it would be wise to rest—"

"Rest? Walter, I am not a child. My duties as king do not cease simply because of a fleeting illness. The realm requires my attention, now more than ever. My body may falter, but my mind will not."

Walter remains quiet for a moment, before speaking up. "The council has heard rumors of your collapse yesterday, Your Majesty. They question whether you are fit to rule..."

"Unfit to rule?" Bruce murmurs, a soft scoff escaping his lips. "They have not the insight to understand the burden I bear." He halts infront of Lucas's room. The light spilling from within is soft and gentle, creating a tender moment of peace. The sight draws him in. "I will face them." Bruce says, determined. "I will show them that I am no lesser for what I endure."

He turns his head to face Walter, his voice quieter now. "How is he? Has Lucas shown any signs of improvement, as of late?"

Walter steps forward, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. "Surprisingly, well. He’s grown quite large for his age, Your Majesty. He’s no longer a mere infant, but a full-fledged toddler, despite the curse. It seems the spell’s effects are waning... though I dare not say it’s permanent just yet.”

At that, Bruce felt a quiet relief settle in his chest. Perhaps there is hope after all... Lucas was never meant to be an infant, and while Bruce understood the strange magic that turned him, he longed for the day where Lucas might once again take on a form fitting his age and abilities.

"Good. Very good," he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. "Perhaps this... curse is not as final as we feared."

Walter nods. "It seems so, sire."

With a final glance toward the door, Bruce turns away. "Keep an eye on him. I will not have him stir chaos in the kingdom. If he is indeed returning to his former self... we must be diligent."

They turn to continue their journey towards the meeting room, his mind still caught up on Lucas and the curse, when he hears a soft shuffle behind them. It’s a noise so slight, Bruce almost dismisses it. But as they move forward, he catches a glimpse of something or someone, darting around the corner. A small figure, a flash of movement, too quick for his one good working eye to fully catch.

Bruce pauses, narrowing his gaze. "Walter... did you hear that?"

Walter turns, scanning the corridor with the sharp eyes of a hawk. His voice is low, almost uneasy. "I did not, sire. Perhaps... one of the servants?"

He shook his head, instinct building within him. "No. It was no servant. Keep your eyes open."

With a furrowed brow, Bruce turned back to the door of the council chambers, pushing open the heavy wooden doors with his usual force, the doors flung open wide. The council members are already seated at the long, wooden table when Bruce takes his seat at the head of the table. They all rise, their faces grim and respectful as he takes his place—though their eyes never fully meet Bruce's. Once settled in, Bruce slowly lowers himself down on the cushions and as he does, a loud, unmistakable sound erupts from beneath him.

Thhhppppbbbtttttt!

The entire room goes deathly silent and Bruce sits there, stunned.

What in the name of all that is holy?–

He looks down, his gaze narrowing on the source of the sound. A small, inconspicuous whoopee cushion has been placed under the seat, neatly hidden from view. Bruce glances quickly at the council members, but none of them dare to look at him directly.