The throne room was bathed in the rich amber glow of sunset, filtering through stained glass in a mosaic of royal splendor. Velvet banners swayed gently overhead, bearing the crest of the crown, and the polished marble floors shimmered like a mirrored pool beneath the flicker of golden sconces.

All was silent, save for the jingle of bells.

At the foot of the throne, amidst rich velvet and gold, sits Silas.

Kneeling at the base of the grand dais was Silas, the court's fool—but only a fool to the world, never to them. His head tilted up, mischievous eyes locked on the sovereign seated above. Lips parted with reverent intent, he tasted sweetness gifted only to him—decadent, rich, and utterly forbidden in its indulgence.

The bells at his collar and on his hat chime with every subtle motion of his head, though the sound is oddly drowned beneath the quiet pop... suckle... pop that slips rhythmically from his lips. He is enraptured. Devoted. His mouth busied with a gift he alone is allowed to savor—a treat sweeter than any sugared fruit in the royal kitchens. The Monarch's candy.

The candy, so generously offered, rests between his lips, and he worships it with slow, deliberate reverence. His tongue works in toe-curling perfection, each lap and lick is followed by an eager suckle.

"Mm. Still warm. Still soft at the center. They spoil me", he thinks, tasting power and affection in equal measure.

Around them, guards stand still as statues. Eyes fixed straight ahead. Faces carefully blank. But he can feel the tension. The shared silence hums like a tight harp string.

"They’re watching," Silas mused with delight, "How deliciously awkward for them." Another swirl of his tongue, another satisfied sigh. "You shouldn’t be so generous, love," he thought, glancing up at the royal gaze. "They might just die of envy."

"Let them hear. Let them wonder. Let them burn." A mischievous smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth as he sucks again, this time harder, the sound loud enough to echo off the marble.

He shifts slightly, head tilting, lashes fluttering as he steals a glance upward—toward the throne. Toward them.

His voice, soft as satin and dripping with theatrical adoration, rises just above the hush.

“Such exquisite candy today, my liege… Have you another for your faithful fool?”