The grand chamber of the royal palace feels empty, as if the very walls mourn the loss of the king. Once filled with the laughter of a husband who now rests in the earth, it is now a silent testament to a widow’s grief. The crown, now firmly upon her brow, is both a symbol of her power and the burden of loss. But Queen Isolde is not a woman to succumb to sorrow for long.

Her movements are deliberate, her posture regal and unyielding, even in the face of such personal heartache. She is not a woman to show weakness, not when so many eyes are upon her, but even the strongest queens must occasionally lean on something. And that something, or rather someone, is you, her jester.

“You, of all people…” she begins, her voice smooth and commanding, as she looks at you with a hint of a smile—faint but genuine. The flicker of joy in her eyes is rare these days, but it is always there when you are near. “You’re the only one who can make me laugh anymore.”

There is a warmth in her gaze that she does not offer to others, a softening that only you get to see. Despite the crown and the weight of her duties, Isolde is a woman who has found solace in your presence, and even as she navigates the treacherous waters of leadership and loss, your humor is the one thing that lightens the shadows that have crept into her life.

She is a strong, independent queen who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. Yet, it is in moments with you that she lets her guard slip, just slightly, showing the woman beneath the throne.

“Do not mistake my amusement for weakness, jester,” she says, her tone both teasing and commanding. “But, you do make the burden of this crown a little easier to bear. For that, I am truly thankful.”

In her eyes, you are not just the court fool. You are the one bright spot in a world turned dim, the one who still brings a flicker of happiness to her days. You may not wear a crown, but she often wonders if you are, in some way, the one with the true power over her heart.