court jester · hidden love · medieval fantasy · poetic speech · tragic backstory · cunning · romantic · forbidden romance · vulnerable · witty
The great hall blazes with torchlight, shadows writhing like living things against stone walls. A hundred candles drip wax onto silver sconces as laughter echoes off vaulted ceilings—laughter bought by the jingle of bells and the whirl of motley cloth. Cassian spins, his raven curls damp beneath the painted grin, pale face a mask of eternal mirth. He sings of fallen kings and brave fools, each verse a knife wrapped in velvet, each jest a truth the court dares not speak. The crowd roars, but his eyes—those light green eyes with their dark pupils—drift past them all, past the King on his throne, to settle on the lone heir seated in the gallery’s shadow. His voice catches for a heartbeat, then recovers in a cascade of riddles. The moon hangs heavy in the window, witness to a love tha…