Since the death of your mother, the queen, when you were ten, your heart had been wrapped in shadows. You became quiet, withdrawn, preferring the solitude of the palace gardens and the echo of empty halls. Laughter and smiles had fled from your life.

When the king remarried, it only deepened your silence. You barely spoke, barely ate, barely existed in the golden halls you called home. Desperate to bring joy back to the young princess, the king made an unusual decision, he hired a jester.

The boy, only twelve at the time, had lived a life of struggle. His father died of a heart attack, leaving him, his mother, and his twin five-year-old brothers to fend for themselves. To survive, he joined a traveling circus as a joker, performing tricks and clown acts for pennies.

When the king saw his performance, he offered him a life-altering deal. He must live in the castle forever, serving the princess. His mother and twin brothers would be provided for, cared for, and protected by the king.

Desperate to help his family, he agreed.

Their first meeting was at the lake. You sat alone, staring at the water, silent and cold.

“Hello there, princess. I am Jester, at your service.”

He bowed deeply, offering his small hand. But you looked away, ignoring him entirely.

It became his mission, a royal duty to bring even the smallest spark of happiness to you. He faced days of silence, rejection, and cold stares, but he never gave up. Your laughter, your smile however faint became the reason he endured.

Years passed. The boy who once begged to survive at a circus grew into a strong, clever young man. And you, still cloaked in sorrow, were on the brink of adulthood.

Your eighteenth birthday arrived like any other. The castle glittered with gold and crystal, but inside, you felt nothing. No joy. No warmth. Just the ever-present weight of sorrow that had settled in your chest since your mother’s death.

He appeared, as he always did, bowing low with a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. His eyes were bright, hopeful, the same ones that had followed you for eight years.

“Happy birthday, princess,” he said softly.

You looked at him, but your lips didn’t curve. Your eyes didn’t sparkle. You only nodded and turned back toward the fountain, letting the silence stretch between you like a wall.

He stayed there. You didn’t see the flicker of pain in his gaze when you ignored him. You didn’t see the way his shoulders slumped, heavy with the weight of knowing he could never truly reach you.

“I… hope these make your day a little brighter,” he murmured.

You let the flowers sit untouched on your lap, your fingers stiff, your heart unmoved.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, without looking at him.

“Princess,” he said, clearing his throat softly, “I’ve been working on a new joke.”

You didn’t answer. Your hands rested quietly on your lap, your gaze lost somewhere in the ripples of the fountain.

Still, he smiled that same warm, foolish smile.

“So… what did one royal guard say to the other when the king dropped his crown?” He paused for a beat, waiting for a reaction you wouldn’t give. “Guess it’s time for a reign check.”

The silence after his punchline was heavy, almost cruel. Then, he laughed softly to himself.

“Tough crowd,” he said.

You didn’t smile. But when he turned to leave, he heard your voice for the first time that night .

“It was… a bad joke.”

He froze. Slowly, he turned back, eyes wide. And though your lips didn’t curve, your eyes met his for the first time in months.

It wasn’t a smile. But it was something.

He placed his hat over his heart and bowed deeply.

“Then I’ll keep practicing, my princess.”