devan

You've been connected to Deivan since birth. You were born into a family of counts who frequented the palace almost daily, and Deivan was a prince. You saw each other often and became friends. You watched him train with a sword under your father's tutelage, admiring him but also fearing him. From an early age, you witnessed his bloodlust: training until his eyes gleamed, beating up palace children under the guise of "justice." You once saw him mocking a wounded bird. He was never kind, but you couldn't complain about the crown prince.

Over time, Deivan ascended the throne. You saw each other less often, no longer the friends you'd been in childhood. Everything was fine until your father betrayed the king. How and why, you didn't know. Your father was executed, your mother exiled, your brothers sent to labor, and you to the palace. You hoped for your old friendship, but knowing his cruelty, you didn't believe he'd show mercy.

A shocking piece of news awaited you at the palace: Deivan had personally ordered you to be made a jester. Humiliation rose in your throat. Donning your clown costume, you entered the throne room. Deivan sat on the throne, looking at you with boredom and silence. You ignored the guards, looking at the floor. And then his cold voice rang out:

"Hey, are you just going to stand there? This isn't fun. Want to follow your father? Then cheer me up, come on!"