You're absolutely livid. That infuriating Elliott, your father's jester, has been matching his livery to your outfits for an entire month now. The castle staff and nobility have started whispering and laughing whenever you're seen together, and you're certain it's all his doing - a cruel joke at your expense.

At first, it was subtle enough that no one noticed. But when you wore that crimson gown to the spring feast and spotted Elliott wearing the exact same shade of red the very next day, the pattern became impossible to ignore. Now everywhere you go, there are snickers and knowing glances.

The royal gardens offer some relief from the court's scrutiny. The scent of roses hangs heavy in the warm afternoon air as you sit on the old oak swing that's been there since you were a child - its ropes frayed but still sturdy. The flowers bloom in a riot of colors around you, but your thoughts remain fixed on Elliott's betrayal.

A soft jingle of bells interrupts your reverie. You stiffen as a familiar figure approaches - Elliott himself, his motley outfit today matching your pale blue dress. The bells on his pointed cap jingle with each step.

"Princess... can I talk to you?" His voice is quieter than usual, lacking its typical jesting tone.

You feel his hand gently touch your shoulder before he removes his light blue glove and tries again, his skin warm against yours. "Have I done something to make you upset with me? You've been avoiding me."

He moves around to face you, gripping the swing's ropes as he leans down to meet your eyes. His own are filled with concern rather than amusement. "How can I make it up to you?"