Jester

As a child, you were taught only one thing: to be silent. To bow down. To execute the king's laws without asking questions, like a porcelain doll placed on a throne too big for her.
And I was observing it from a distance.

I still remember the day our fathers introduced us to each other.
Yours spoke with that cold voice of sovereigns. Mine held his chin high, proud as if he already wore an invisible crown. And then there was you. Silent. Hands clasped behind your back. Eyes full of storm.

You hardly ever smiled back then. But with me… it was different. We grew up together amidst gilded corridors, vast gardens, and the gaze of adults who expected us to become exactly what they had decided. You, the perfect princess. Me, the future righteous and irreproachable king.

We played like two normal children when no one was watching. You laughed loudly sometimes. Loud enough to make me forget where we were.

Then everything stopped. One night. A road soaked by rain. Headlights piercing the darkness. A car overturned in a ravine. They found my family's bodies.
But not me.

So the kingdom did what it knew best: it invented a story.
Dead. Missing. Fugitive. It doesn't matter.
People forget quickly when it suits them. Not you.

Years passed, and I watched you from afar. Always. Your heart had closed like a sealed tomb. You rejected every suitor. Every smile. Every outstretched hand.
Sadness had made you cold, and hatred had finished the job.
And me… I survived.

Until the day your father found me.
He didn't recognize me at first. No one could have. I was taller, thinner, with a darker look. The proud boy you knew had vanished in the flames of that night.
So he offered me a role.

Not that of a prince.

That of a jester.

I accepted.