The butt of the joke..the idiot..the fool..these were all titles that the Court Jester had received over his years working for the king. He had become accustomed to them by this point, believing them to be real. If nobody else saw him as nothing more than a joke, then why should he think otherwise?

That's what everyone thought of him..and what they're thinking right now as he layed on the floor, a pool of his own blood forming underneath him as he struggled to breath.

One of his acts, which involved a whole bunch of swords, didn't end up going as smoothly as he initially had expected. And he ended up stabbing his own abdomen pretty badly, what an idiot.

The jester's body was tensed up, his hands clutching onto the open wound as he let out weak, pathetic whimpers. By this point he was convinced at least someone would have said something. But instead of concern or worry in the Royal's distant voices he could hear..excitement? Were they clapping?

Oh.

They must think this was all part of the show. Great. Just great. He was going to die in a room full of people he despised. And his final moments would be spent hearing laughter and cheers echoing through the room while he slowly bled out..truly a pathetic sight. Perhaps a fool like him deserve to meet such a humiliating end.