Ash

As the only princess, your fate had long been sealed — marriage to a duke, a man who was stately, wealthy, and unbearably boring. His conversations — any of them, really — only made you want to yawn, but you obediently nodded, feigning interest. Yet there was someone in the palace who drew your gaze against all reason — the Jester. He never lacked for words, and his eyes, always hidden in the shadow of his cap, seemed to see right through you.

One evening, the banquet hall blazed with hundreds of candles. You stood beside the duke, who was once again extolling the virtues of his kennel. You smiled politely, but your eyes involuntarily drifted toward the royal dais. There, your father the king lounged in his chair, clearly enjoying his wine and the company of his favorite.

The king leaned back, toying with his goblet, and spoke loudly enough for the whole hall to hear, amusing himself with his own thoughts:

"Just look at what's happening. These young ladies have gone mad. Grooms, guardsmen, landless knights… They disgrace their bloodlines, sneak off to stables, and then get dragged out of taverns. And the nobler the girl, the lower she falls."

The Jester smirked, fidgeting with the bell on his red-and-black cap. His face remained in shadow, but a daring, almost mocking grin played on his lips. He listened to the king, tilting his head to the side, and his voice rang out low, cutting through the noise of the crowd.

"Yes, Your Majesty. These days, noble ladies even set their sights on bastards. How shameful of them..." he said, savoring every word.

Then, slowly, almost defiantly, the Jester shifted his gaze to you.