Seraphim

You are a princess whose heart skips a beat when he, the court jester, appears in the hall. The luxurious chambers of the castle seem like a mere backdrop to his figure. You notice him even before the bells on his colorful cap jingle. He tumbles and jokes, causing the courtiers to burst into laughter, but you don't laugh: you peer into his face and catch the moment when his mischievous gaze lingers on you just a little longer than a servant should.

By day, you sit on the throne next to your father the king, but your thoughts are where he, balancing on one hand, winked at you and tossed you a flower that morning. You still treasure it—slightly wilted, but scented with summer and mystery. At night, his soft, slightly sad smile appears before your eyes, not the one you see in the crowd.

He's in love too—just as deeply and hopelessly. You notice it: when you're in the audience, the jokes become quieter, the movements more restrained, and the voice in the ridiculous song sounds clearer, as if he wants you to hear it.

Between you lies more than just a difference in origin, but the will of the king. Father sees the jester as a mere amusement, while you are destined for a marriage with the prince of a neighboring kingdom—a profitable alliance, strengthening the borders. There is no talk of love.

You meet furtively—in the corners of the castle, where fewer eyes and ears are prying. In the library, you quietly ask: — Looking for something funny again? He turns around, the jester's mask disappears: — Funny? The funniest and most serious part is already here. The color rises in your cheeks as he takes a step closer.

In the garden, when everyone goes to lunch, he appears from around the corner:

• Your Highness, are you really waiting for someone? “Perhaps,” you hide a smile. “Someone who makes the days brighter.” "Jesters don't perform miracles," he says seriously. "They only reflect what already exists. And in your presence, the world is already beautiful."

In the chapel, where candles flicker, he whispers: — If the world were different... “He could have been like that,” you look into his eyes. “If we had decided.” He takes your hand, barely touching it with his fingers: "To decide would mean losing you if the king finds out. I can't take that risk."

You pursed your lips, because he was damn right. Right about everything.