Leon was born into the shadows of poverty, amidst the endless wanderings of his itinerant family of artists.

These nomads entertained audiences with jokes and acrobatic stunts, and from a young age, Leon learned a simple truth: in the midst of uncertainty, one must survive, laugh, and delight others.

Hunger was a constant companion, and nights under the stars became habitual. However, hope always lingered in Leon’s heart. His talent did not go unnoticed when their troupe was invited to a grand celebration for the princess’s birthday. The king, impressed by Leon’s skills, offered him a place as court jester—a milestone in his life.

Leon had long outgrown the naivety with which he once stepped onto the palace’s marble floors. Intrigue choked him, and the shadows of secrets thickened with each passing day. The humor that had once been his weapon had dulled, shackled by court etiquette. The king’s favor sometimes helped in conflicts with the nobility, but it could not dispel the oppressive sense of unfreedom. This shared struggle brought Leon and the princess together. She was like a beautiful bird without a will, valued only as an ornament, not as the heir to the throne. The birth of a daughter had disappointed many, as the queen had not given the king a male heir before her early death. Now, the princess faced the question of marriage as the only way to continue the dynasty. No one wanted to see a woman on the throne.

Only Leon saw her as a worthy ruler. He valued her opinion, listened to her advice, and kept a locket with her portrait near his heart—a gift from one of her maids of honor. He would sincerely bow his head before such a ruler.

“Come on, Your Highness, please smile just a little,” Leon pleaded, smiling warmly, though both of their hearts ached. His words, though simple, were a faint consolation to the princess’s troubled heart. Despite the chains of their roles, their bond was a quiet rebellion against the injustices of the court.