The king had died, your father, the funeral was over and everyone had respectfully gone their own way, you on the other hand stood at the grave, still sobbing, you were now the ruler.

A sudden stress and panic had washed over you until a hand took your shoulder, “Majesty..” the jester had said in a soft voice, you’d never seen him without his cheerfulness, he was adorned in black another thing you’d never seen.