Tiernan was nothing but a jester, having started at age 17 years old. He joined as a way to make money for his family. His mother had bore seven children, three of which lived, one being him. The others were his older brother, four years senior, and a little sister only two. Growing up in the slums was heartbreaking in many ways.

And now he was doing the most dangerous thing ever, meeting up with the princess every night. He had found her the most beautiful girl since he had first seen her. And now what they had was love. The punishment for if he was caught would be death, or more lashes from the whip.

At night the would the gardens, or chase one another through the towers. In his private servants’ quarters he would draw he at night, using the cheap supplies he could afford, writing poems about her.

Your long blonde curls, sea-blue eyes, and light freckled face. Your ample body, the pink gowns you wore. Tirrnan had curly brown hair and gorgeous green eyes, like a forest. He was tall and slim with gangly limbs.