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They had done it. They had finally crowned one of the rarest dreams to ever be achieved. A child's dream, really. Becoming a knight, defending the king. Any king, for that matter. Slovenia had no king, but those who trained in its perfected military academies could hope to serve one of the many across Europe and Arabia even, one day. If luck led them so far, that is.
Joker Out, officially registered name in the Military Grimoire and newly formed Armed Guard fresh out of the army was in the grand palace hall, kneeling in front of the equally freshly crowned King, who went by the name of Käärijä and was at that very moment sitting on his black and polished throne. The long fluorescent green cape he was wearing for such an important day was tailored perfectly and laying on the ground by his side, falling off the throne's shiny steps. Attentive, he seemed to be very focused and intently listening to Bojan's speech; as head of Royal Guards in charge from now on, it was his very first duty to present himself and his companions to the Court. An official presentation at Court was indeed always needed.
The King seemed to be having trouble listening, or more likely understanding, what was being said, but unfortunately for him Bojan could not stop to explain every minuscule meaning. As a foreigner himself, he understood too well the stress of not knowing what was being said in its entirety, but as of now the biggest stress in his life was maintaining a stable tone of voice and for his words to make sense. He kept feeling beads of sweat dripping down from his neck towards the insides of his uniform. The knee of his dominant leg was up and the other down in an obsequious gesture, as was expected to be by the Court's rules, and the rest of his band had earlier followed him in the same position, the other four fanning out behind him, two on each side. Their faces were angled downwards and the eyes barely open, some even closed as he spoke and his voice reverberated through the central nave.
Finally he reached the final part of the speech, the most important and most impactful on the people gathered around.
"Your Majesty. It is with great honour we, the official Slovenian Guards, pledge unwavering loyalty to you, Käärijä, King of Finland, and we shall fulfill our duty thoroughly, may we lose our lives we failed in our mission." Bojan's breath came out at last, shaky and nervous but hopefully for the final time as he wasn't expected to talk any more. His heart kept racing like a deer hunted down and his voice, well, he preferred not thinking of how much it likely came out trembling and unsure during his speech, hoped no one caught the anxiety brewed in it. He himself felt like shaking, but had to keep still for the appearances' sake.
So many people in the hall, all grasping at each other for a better view, held their breath as they waited for their new King to send out a concession; for Bojan and his mates to be accepted as the new Royal Guards in charge. Bojan and his colleagues, his friends, his family waited with their faces yet lowered until the pose and the speech convinced his Majesty well enough, until everything sufficed him and his Cohort.
Käärijä slowly stood up and offered a hand out as an inviting gesture and Bojan only managed to see it with the corner of his eye. "You may stand now" the King conceded, the confirmation of his acceptance of them as personal guards from now on end. So stand they did and all their right fists, gloved in thick dark gloves, sprang toward their hearts as they slowly straightened, this time facing directly in front of them, but not meeting their new King's eyes.
As the King gave his thanks and whatnots, the communal language the majority of Europe spoke nowadays sounded sharp and unpracticed, new to him, but Bojan couldn't blame him for not knowing something that had never been requested of him. He had been a mere prince just a few weeks prior, and his only preoccupations were throwing parties for his close Cohort and equally affiliated but, as a twist of fate, the crown had suddenly been imposed onto his head, him not even aiming for it in his life. It had come to everyone's shock, most of all his in the very first place. It had been vicissitude after unfortunate vicissitude, his family either dying out or going into not so volutary exile, a poisoning, a retaliation of sorts, and in the end he was the only one remaining. Him, so inept to reign according to himself and the general opinion, so much it had never been required of him to speak the communal language of Europe.
Käärijä, how he had wanted to be called even before wearing the crown for good purpose, had been called back in his birth home and imposed the new divine mandate; but because the name mattered to him and matched his past and surprisingly enough his new life as well, he kept on the tradition to be referred with such a name. He used to spend his old dandy life mostly in Vantaa, secluded in an assigned stronghold which he rendered a lustruous place with a maze, a rose garden and even a fountain in the middle; he charged sculptors and architects and built small lakes with imported animals that roamed the park and the water of the lake surrounding the isle where the stronghold was positioned. But all of this hadn't helped his current situation, the rushed ashension to a throne he wasn't adapt to maintain and as a consequence, he had to be rushed into studies of a foreign language. The only royal thing he used to excell at was fighting, or so Bojan had heard.
So no, Bojan had done a lot of thinking and wondering about the man ever since apprehending what his duty was going to be after leaving the army and he came to the conclusion that not knowing the most used language in Europe could be excused if you were expected to live your life as an unimportant relative who lived far from the throne line and the capital and almost every single direct relative had forgotten about, although he still did wonder what the parties he used to throw brought with them if he was considered the black sheep of the Royal family because of them. His behaviour was perhaps so scabrous and morally questionable? Well, life had a knack for irony, as it turned out, and now the partying was over. Not only for the King, but for everybody involved as well, thus Bojan had best minding his own business and focus on his most important and newly obtained duties, because he doubted he was going to attend a feast any time soon.
The King was offered a sword from one of his attendants while another almost silently ordered for them to kneel once again. He took the sword meanwhile, holding it horizontally and with both hands as if it were a holy reliquy, then he very slowly turned it around and took hold of the hilt and positioned it vertically, bent just so the tip, not sharp as it were a fake object apt for rituals but still so shiny it reflected the sun peeking from the windows behind the King, faced Bojan first, as he was the head of the Royal Guards. His chin could be grazed even with a non-sharp sword as that if only he'd sunk his head lower and made for the contact with the metal, but his gaze had to be immovable and asserted now that he was allowed to look who his new patron was, the same person who gave the order to raise earlier. What he saw, him closer than his companions who could only get a glimpse, he imagined, were eyes so clear and unsure he almost pitied the person in front of him and made him wonder how his hand on the sword was being so impossibly still if he suffered so much. It was quick, but he thought his King recognized his gaze as Bojan recognized his suffering in turn and he wanted to curse himself for being so obvious and unable to conceal his feelings and thoughts all the times. The mutual acknowledgement passed in a moment, but he felt he committed a mistake.
"I bestow you the title of Royal Guard of the King, from now on end" the King uttered not as loudly as it should have been appropriated for an official function, the accent so thick and foreign, it was both painful and enticing to listen. The sword brushed him on the shoulders, the rite feeling so unbelievable to Bojan and he would bet anything he had, it looked as much to his companions' eyes as they waited each their turn. As soon as the King was done with him he stepped to officially bless each one of them, repeating the same movements but without further words. Then, he walked back to his throne, the sword yet again horizontal and yet again a page stepped forward to take it away from his hands. "You may stand now" he ultimately conceded, so Bojan and his band obliged once again.
Their chins were raised as high as they've ever been raised, the pride in achieving what they've strived for in their entire lives manifesting itself in their beating hearts and small tears at the corner of their eyes. Pride was overtaking them, so much they were almost paralyzed, immobile, ornamental statues in a garden and holding their breaths, until the hall started plauding them soundly at an invisible sign and all they could do was finally breathe.
"What are you worried for, my First Guard?" the King asked as they walked, visibly concerned. He seemed genuine.
"Nothing worries me, my Liege" Bojan calmly replied.
"But I see you think so much and I think maybe it's a bad thing."
Was he being serious? Trying to make conversation with him, a mere guard who was there to do his job and shared nothing in common with him? Their lives, which Bojan didn't want to think about, were different in every aspect of them and, again Bojan did not want to think ill of the man, but it was an incautious idea to give confidence to someone he'd just met and wasn't part of the Royal Entourage. Well, not officially. Perhaps there really was a reason why his family had kept him secluded to live his out-of-the-ordinary life all these years and would have been keen on on keeping it as that for the rest of his and their lives. But in the end, what could a simple guard under his paycheck do if not make the King happy and indulge him?
"I was thinking about my installation as a Royal Guard. The official celebration in front of all the Court specifically." He added a quick "Your Majesty" as he almost forgot to say. Such oversights were things to get flogged for, but the King didn't seem to have noticed nor cared for the almost amiss appellative.
"Yes? What about?" he asked, prompting him to go on.
Bojan felt as if he'd just fell in a quicksand with his armor weighting him down to the bottom. He cleared his throat, adamantly looking ahead and sometimes sneaking a glance to their surroundings; he knew Jan, Nace, Kris and Jure surveilled the place and followed them from hidden sconces in the garden. He knew he could trust them with their safety, but it was etiquette for the King to walk along with a guard on his side to protect him. "It wasn't... The best speech I've ever had. Or impression, for that being. Your Majesty."
"Why not? You did great impression to me."
Bojan dared briefly tilt his head to the side, sensing the King's gaze had settled fully onto him and imagining the situation required an exchange of glances not to result rude. He met his eyes for the second time, the King himself offering him a wide smile as if glad Bojan had finally decided to regard him. Soon, he averted his gaze once again, his heart stuttering after being under his scrutiny. Outcast or not, he was still a Royal. Those eyes burned his face and a brief glance seemed to suffice.
"My voice was tense and shaking, your Majesty." He gulped down.
"No, I think your speech was perfect and you and your..." he hummed, fishing for the word. "... other guards, you looked beautiful and strong that day. I feel safe with all you around."
Bojan didn't know how to feel towards such compliment, didn't know what to make of the praise, feeling it should have been the other way around, but he resolved by thanking him just in case as he'd been taught back at the academy.
"My speech, oh" the King sighed "that was embarrassing and everyone had to listen, but what can I do, I'm still learning." He talked to him as if they were long lost friends. He just chit-chatted with Bojan not thinking of etiquette infringement. Thankfully they were alone in the garden, but Bojan was starting to feel hot all the way underneath his military gear. He felt uncomfortable more and more as he had to walk with the King and the latter had taken on such an uncomfortable level of confidency with him. Bojan couldn't help but ask himself what the King saw in such a simple man like him. The heat came in waves, one greater than the other and he felt his neck itching underneath the gear, but he had to endure. "I can see you guards are trained well. I was in the army too once, so I notice these things."
"I thank you on behalf of my guild, your Majesty" he huffed with a little bow.
"Please, don't say titles all the time, just talk normal, like friend" he said and regarded him before seeing him all hot and puffing, so he stopped in his walk. Bojan followed short. "Are you okay? Are you sick?"
Like a friend? What was wrong with this man? He was the King! He was the King and he was wasting his time making friends with his personal guards, who didn't even know him and whose sole job was to protect him with their lives. The isolation from the Royal family must have damaged the now King's mind. He couldn't be so naive, not at court.
"I'm feeling a bit hot under the collar, that's all, your Majesty" he forced himself to reply, unable to avoid the title.
"Oh, I see, not easy walking under the hot sun with armor. You don't have one armor less..." he yet again stopped mid-sentence to search for the right word which never came, so Bojan dared do something without explicit consent and help him out.
"Less heavy, does your Majesty mean?" he suggested. An image of him being whipped for having talked when not requested flashed in his mind.
"Yes, that!" the King exclaimed instead, almost too excited for the help.
"A knight's armour of our level has to be clean and shining. It's a safety reason, specific of Royal Guards of Slovenia. Royal Guards wear them so they can see each other while escorting royalty, whereas knights who go into battle have to wear darker ones or even better, chainmails. Your Majesty" he explained.
"Oh, I see now why it is blinding me" he said with a smile, a hand raised to protect his very clear eyes from the glare of the sun reflecting on the surface of Bojan's armour.
"Forgive me, your Majesty" Bojan heavily bowed and tried to cover what he could with his red cape.
"No, no, you don't worry, but aren't you too hot with it? Maybe wear another" he suggested, resuming walking.
"It is part of my duty, to wear this and more underneath." Bojan, too, resumed walking.
The King hummed, bringing his hands behind his back as they advanced slowly. "Is your duty listening to me, too?"
"Whatever your Highness needs me for, I am here and will provide" Bojan said, his chin raised high and walking straight.
"And if now I tell you to go away and leave me alone, do you go?"
Bojan's next step came forward almost wavering, were it not for his well-trained instinct to keep going it would have been noticeable. He wondered how much training had the King received. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, your Majesty" he babbled and he sounded so petulant to his own ears. He was starting to feel as if none of them wanted to be there. Not in that place, not in those social positions.
"I tell you, you don't call me highness or majesty or whatever here, we talk normally" he said evenly, then continued "but it's nice to know you don't want to disobey orders for now."
It sounded too ominous, too weird despite the language barrier. He was aiming at something and Bojan wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of it, although he felt compelled to ask. If he was going to be involved in a plot, he'd best know part of it at least. "For now, your M-" he cut himself short "for now, what do you mean?" and finally managed to say a sentence without adding an honorific term.
"Life is... Unpredictable. You don't know what you will or won't do."
"I assure you I have no plans on disobeying if I can help it."
"I know. But one day you will."
"How so?" he questioned. He felt the nervousness rising.
"We don't know. Maybe you are forced to do. And it will be fine."
"You are so sure of it, why?"
"Because things happen and you are human and can't be too perfect."
"What's wrong with perfection?"
"Kings should be perfect but aren't."
"No?"
The King barked a brief but loud laugh. Bojan startled. "No, no, nobody is perfect in private. Are you?" he asked in a silly voice that made Bojan burst out laughing despite his better judgement and the startle he got earlier.
"No, absolutely, but one can try" he answered, still half laughing. The King seemed pleased with himself at having made his First Guard laugh.
"You have nice laugh" the man, Käärijä, cooed, giving him a look which Bojan couldn't quite pinpoint. The King himself tried to keep in his own laughter.
"Thank you" Bojan said, his voice a bit trembling from repressed giggles.
The conversation had finally come to an end and Bojan's nerves thanked him, albeit feeling less tense; in a more comfortable silence, they made it back to the castle.
Short before reaching the Royal Attendants waiting for the King at the mansion's doors, he stopped Bojan so they could be out of earshot. Käärijä had stopped him by gently laying a hand over Bojan's forearm. "I tell you now before others: we pack up and go to Vantaa soon for summer. I show you my home."
"Sit with me" the King patted the spot next to him on the edge of the concrete fountain. It was turned off and probably had been dry for a long time.
"I'm on duty, my Liege" Bojan replied, a bit restless. He looked around himself, knowing the rest of his band wasn't there to watch their backs this time. The last minute call had only found Bojan available.
"No, you aren't. Are you?" Käärijä jested in an attempt and making him laugh; and Bojan almost laughed. The tension he felt only made him draw a thin smile across his lips.
"Whenever I'm with you I'm on duty" he reasoned instead.
"You are nervous since we come to Vantaa. Why? You can tell me."
Bojan mulled over it a bit, licked his lips, uncertain on what to say. "With all due respect your Majesty, I've been reprimanded lately for our off the clock strolls. I wouldn't want something happen to you and the fact that we are in an unknown location to me, in charge of your safety, can be quite stressful." He knew he spoke too much, but that's what Käärijä had asked of him and honestly, if his loose tongue caused him troubles with him but still managed to keep him safe, who was Bojan to avoid the matter? But the King seemed to finally grasp the importance of his words and what they meant in that situation. He looked stern as he thought about his frail position and Bojan almost regretted being too honest with him.
"Oh, I see. I'm sorry."
Bojan's breath caught and he was quick to reply. "You're the King. There's no need to apologize" he murmured as his gaze softened, seeing how chastized the King looked. God, he was going to get himself eaten alive at Court, no doubt.
"Well, but I want to apologize to you for causing trouble."
Bojan believed Käärijä wasn't capable of being a King yet as he was too good with other people and often humiliated himself or, like in that moment, excused himself when he really shouldn't have. Still, Bojan couldn't help his nerves and forehead relax, the wrinkles disappearing. "Considering there haven't been any attack towards you yet, accompanying you for a stroll at an ungodly hour is a trouble I find myself enjoying. There's no real need for you to apologize, your Majesty" he admitted, adding the last title as a reminder.
Käärijä looked at him for a while; it was so visible the tumultuous thoughts swirming in his head.
"You sure you don't want to sit down with me?"
"Yes, forgive me" Bojan said with a sad smile.
"Then we walk. It's weird if I sit and you not."
Bojan wanted to retort it wouldn't have made any difference to him, and shouldn't have for Käärijä especially, but found in himself no strenght to do so so he kept quiet and they reprised their walking previously interrupted. Neither seemed to mind the silence that had created between them.
"Where they put you, do you like your new room?" at some point the King asked.
"My accomodations are fine, I sleep with my mates in the Eastern hall."
"On what, uh, level?"
"On the ground floor" Bojan simply said, thinking nothing of it.
"They put you near the kitchen?" Käärijä exclaimed, sounding offended.
Bojan startled and turned to face him fully, forgetful of manners. His lips were parted in surprise, eyes wide. He almost fumbled with words but managed to croak out an elusive reply to that unexpected behaviour "It's fine, really." Internally he panicked a bit. He'd never seen the King acting offended for anything, even more important material things.
Now, having the King on his side sounded weird and impossible to him, had they told him he would end up being one of his favourites years prior. Bojan wanted to stop him before Käärijä started promising him things and have favours made to ease him at Court. By now Bojan knew the King was famous for offering much and giving gifts in his old life as well his time and company and affection and, as old habits die hard, he'd soon get back to it at the new Court. He didn't want to owe him anything and definitely didn't need anything fancy. He was a Royal Guard: he had a family of equally talented men whom he considered his family and were all getting paid by the King of Finland's Royal chests. He had a salary and a place to stay, a purpose. He needn't anything more. "It's the warmest room and it's cozy" he said finally.
The King seemed to be convinced on the greatest part of it, but he still crossed his arms, eyeing him, studying his certainty as he'd said so. "You tell me if you and your guild want change."
Bojan would never, but he still nodded. "I will in case. My thanks, your Majesty."
Soft tapping against the window. Hushed words, hushed words again and again.
Bojan kept sleeping, transferring the noises in his dreams. Then, a word whisper-shouted louder than the others. His ears finally registered them clearly and his instinct made him wake up abruptly. He flashed for the sword in its scabbard dangling by the wall. Bojan heard his name clear enough this time, coming from outside the window. He turned and the vision scared him for its implications and the eventual consequences. The King was right outside, a bit downward as the room was partially elevated from the ground and the terrain outside sank et the edge of the mansion in a shallow ditch used to let the water flow, which now was dry. It could have been hilarious, seeing the short King having only his forehead and now turning blond bowl cut fringe poking from outside. His neck was craned to reach a look on the inside of the room.
All Bojan did was putting the sword down, checking if any of his friends had been awakened by the noises he'd made. They all looked fast asleep, yet he suspected some of them had recognized who was outside and just kept pretending to sleep to see what happened next. Bojan quietly opened the window. "What are you doing here?" he asked frantically, his tone betraying his nervousness.
Käärijä simply whispered "I'm here for a secret visit. Come with me now."
Bojan looked beyond the King's half hidden form and towards the dark gardens and miniature forest in the distance and finally down on himself. "I'm in my nightwear" he murmured."
"I don't mind" Käärijä simply stated.
Bojan thrummed his fingers on the window panel next to him, thinking for a few moments at the absurdity and dangers of this situation, how reckless and irresponsible the King was being. Bojan was unsure of his life choices up to that point, the anxiety eating him alive thinking of every possible bad outcome. The King was waiting, a polite expression as he patiently waited for Bojan to make up his mind. But he was at service of the King; could he really say no to him? Käärijä was there to see him, but Bojan had to serve him unquestioningly.
"Wait a moment" he said turning back in and moving away from the window. Bojan fished for the most common garments he owned in the dark of the room, tripping over stuff and furnitures as he dressed up.
Next to him Jure awoke, or maybe he'd finally decided to talk to him after the ruckus the King's presence caused. "Where are you going?"
"Go back to sleep."
"Eager to become the King's lover already?" came from somewhere Nace's teasing voice.
"Shut the fuck up!" Bojan bit back and the last thing he heard before opening the window again and climbing over the windowsill were a bunch of silly cackling voices. He huffed at the exertion when he landed, knowing they were going to give him shit the next morning. As of now, he just dusted the concrete and dirt off himself, trying to conceal the embarassment.
Many things were causing him embarassment to be fair, one of which being in the King of Finland's very presence, at an hour far, far outside of his patrol and in unformal clothes. The tight black leather pants with strings on the stomach and the loose shirt he was wearing weren't going to do him justice considering what the King was wearing.
"Bojan, I'm so happy you decided to come" Käärijä said, beaming, and holy shit the smile and the full black opaque armour he was wearing made Bojan feel weak and envious in comparison. He was handsome in battle gear. Spiked at the shoulders and knees, the protective plaques made him look larger and more buff. Bojan couldn't resist eyeing him up and down and Käärijä gladly let him. After all, one army man recognized the other. The King had a long sword fastened to an equally black scabbard at his side. The King wore his royal attire nicely every day, but this was so much different and so much... more, in every sense.
Bojan was aghast. He stood there for a moment more, just watching. Käärijä seemed to appreciate the attention. "Do you like? It's my personal armour. I use it for tournaments or raids back in the day, but now not anymore." Bojan noticed a hint of sadness in the last words. "Come with me" he recovered quickly and patted Bojan on the shoulder, once, starting to walk quickly with wide strides towards a dark spot of trees.
He followed him, but couldn't help voicing his doubts "Where are we going?"
"A nice place you never see. It's my favourite." the King replied as he started walking towards a dark spot of trees.
The small forest was extremely dark and Bojan found troubled footing in the humid underbrush. At some point he landed one foot so badly he slipped and almost risked hurting himself seriously. Käärijä had been barely ahead of him, having no problems walking blind whatsoever apparently, but as soon as he heard rustling and cursing he quickly offered a life saving hand to Bojan before he fell. The King helped him out and this time it was him cussing in his mothertongue as he almost saw his first guard tumbling over. As the accident was avoided they still held each other's hand, Käärijä showing Bojan where to carefully step. When they reached the end, they found themselves in an unkempt glade and just far ahead a tall and flowery maze. That, too, was unkempt and the old leaves from the previous season covered a great part of the soil, meanwhile branches of the maze sprouted from everywhere and every angle, a vague good smell coming from their flowers. Overall, it was nice. Statues of Greek-Roman goddesses were lined at every corner of the glade and two more were positioned on each side at the entrance of the labyrinth.
No one said anything, but the King, still holding Bojan's hand, leading him in. Their pace was now slower, more relaxed and definitely safer on the flat ground. Just as they had been walking for a few minutes, watching the stars above or discovering new statues in hidden alcoves at every twist and turn of the maze, Bojan realized the vegetal walls had closed in on them completely and they had been keeping no track of the exit. "Aren't we going to get lost?" he asked, nervous again.
"No, don't worry" Käärijä said in the softest tone of voice Bojan had ever heard him use.
The King eventually led them at the center of the maze, a round place with grass-covered tiles running around a dry fountain and marble benches here and there. Käärijä released his hand and sat down on one of them, his gear clinking softly against the hard surface. The king looked up at him, his eyes so sweet it was almost scary coming to terms with the fact Bojan had become the King's favourite. Bojan couldn't move, he just stood there with his equally soft but dark eyes which betrayed evident conflict. He wanted to endulge his King, but if he did there would have been no coming back. Should he ever cross such a barrier? It wasn't wise, it wasn't. But he wanted to and so did the King, unable to mask his sweet obsession with his Personal Guard.
Noticing his indecision, Käärijä once again took his hand and gently pulled Bojan towards him, expecting him to sit down. Bojan had stopped being so nervous about their little get-away ever since almost breaking his ankle in the small forest they crossed earlier, realizing with horror that he was more in danger than the King himself. So the excuse for his current adversity at the idea of sitting with the King was the fact that if he did, he was going to think nonstop about his King and the special treatment he was reserving him for the next few days.
But both seemed to be wanting to think nonstop about the other, didn't they?
Bojan gave a gentle squeeze to Käärijä's hand, accepting the offered seat next to him. As he sat down, the King left his hand and leaned against the backrest, looking up at the now tinged sky. It was the middle of the night, but the sun was rising already. Bojan was never going to stop feeling fascinated by that fenomenon. They observed the dawn with their noses up in the air like two children. The sky was the colour of a peach, at its edge.
Bojan felt the King scoot closer to him, so careful and almost shy or maybe scared to scare him away. He knew it was already too late for him. Bojan was doomed. Both were. In that very moment, he didn't want to stop Käärijä's, Jere's, yes that was his real name, full attention being just for him, his soft and strong and so beautiful hands gently cupping his stubbly cheeks, the King craning his own neck to reach him at the lips.
Bojan carefully tilted his head and was already waiting for him with parted lips and when he felt the pressure on them, the King's beard tickling him, he simply decided to give in completely, deciding at that very moment that he would've given him anything he could have ever wanted: every piece of his mind, every part of his body, any military achievement. Those things, he would give to him as a gift. Bojan closed his eyes, gulping down but not daring to breathe, letting it happen with irrecoverable certainty, knowing now that Kings always got what they wanted one way or the other, and that Bojan himself had tried to fight it all this time inside of him ever since seeing him at their official installment, but in the end he couldn't stop wanting the same thing as him.
Bojan knew it wouldn't be morally acceptable for the King to have as a lover a man such as him and who worked for him nonetheless; he had plenty of courtesans, foreign visitors and dukes and duchesses to seduce, but for some wicked reason he had chosen him. Bojan was completely aware of the risks he was going to put his guild under from now on, a newly founded band and with such a bright future ahead of them had they played their cards well, but Käärijä had some type of charm which worked particularly well on him and the sentiment must have been reciprocated if he had managed to make such an impression on the King. He could have stopped the both of them before kissing, reminding the King of their positions, of the place they should have stayed put in, but his selfish mind made him forget of all this until it was too late.
The reason for such a lapse was the expectancy of the King's lips on his own, again and again.