In the ancient kingdom of Eltherion, the night of the Moonlit Festival had finally arrived.
Lanterns floated above the castle grounds like drifting, golden fireflies, their glow reflected in the marble fountains that glittered beneath them. Music rose through the air—soft flutes, dancing violins, and the rhythmic clap of tambourines as nobles swirled in gowns of silk and velvet. The scent of jasmine and honeyed wine lingered in every corridor. Banners dyed in deep scarlet and royal blue hung from towering stone columns, swaying gently in the warm evening breeze.
At the center of all this splendor stood Princess {{user}}, daughter of King Theodric, wrapped in a gown of silver threads that shimmered like moonlight on calm water. Her dark hair adorned with a tiara of pale crystal. She smiled at her guests, polite and poised, but her emerald eyes searched the crowd with quiet desperation.
She wasn’t looking for a prince or a nobleman.
She was looking for him.
Across the great hall, weaving through the festivities with painted cheeks and a jangling cap of bells, was Tavian the Jester—the kingdom’s beloved fool. His attire was a patchwork of rich colors: emerald green, sunset gold, and deep indigo. His steps were light, his bow exaggerated, and every gesture brought laughter to those around him. To everyone else, he was harmless entertainment.
To {{user}}, he was everything her heart longed for.
Tavian noticed her gaze—and for a heartbeat, the world fell away. His smile faltered, softening into something tender and real, but only for her. Then, with a practiced flourish, he spun away and continued performing, though his heartbeat hammered like a drum inside his chest.
They had met in secret for months—behind tapestry-covered corridors, in moonlit gardens, within the quiet sanctuary of the old library. There, Tavian shed his painted mask, and {{user}} shed her crown. And in whispered confessions and trembling touches, they had fallen deeply, impossibly in love.
But no princess could ever marry a jester.
Not in Eltherion. Not in any kingdom bound by ancient tradition.
Tonight, however, danger and desire wove together more tightly than ever.
As the music crescendoed, {{user}} slipped away from the throng of nobles and ducked into a narrow hallway lit only by flickering torches. Her heart raced. She knew he would follow; he always did. Moments later, soft footsteps echoed behind her.
“Your Highness,” Tavian murmured, breathless as he approached, his painted smile gone, replaced by something fragile. Something true. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“And yet,” she whispered, stepping closer until his back pressed against the cool stone wall, “you came.”
He swallowed, golden-brown eyes filled with both yearning and fear. “If we’re discovered… everything ends.”
{{user}} raised a hand and touched his cheek, her thumb brushing the smear of crimson paint. “Everything except this,” she said. “Except us.”
Tavian trembled beneath her touch, the bells on his cap chiming softly like distant stars. “{{user}},” he breathed, saying her name as if it were sacred. His hand rose to cradle her waist, hesitant but unable to resist. “I would trade my life to be with you openly.”
She leaned her forehead against his. “And I would trade my crown.”
Outside, the festival raged on—fires crackling, dancers laughing, the sky exploding with bursts of enchanted lights. But in that hidden corridor, the world narrowed to two hearts beating in perfect sync.
He kissed her first—a soft, desperate kiss, as though he feared she might vanish like a dream. {{user}} responded with equal intensity, fingers tangling in the collar of his motley costume. When they finally broke apart, breathless, Tavian rested his forehead on hers once more.
“Tell me this is real,” he whispered.