Author's Note: Hullo! As I said, I was going to write a JaneJester fanfic. Just to let it be known, it has NOTHING to do with the Gunther one. It's as if, I dunno, they are stories from parallel universes or something lame like that, okay? This is a story of its own. And yes, I am still writing the Jane Gunther one. I write, like, a bajillion at the same time. :)
This one I also started writing REALLY late at night. I have issues with writing during the day, I think. As I said it's about Jester, and this one is solely about Jester and his... feelings...towards Jane. I don't know. I'm not done yet. It is kind of off to a slower start than the other one, because I was desperate to write something. That's why chapter one is so darn short! :D Expect, though, by the end, another nicely sappy story, written by a girl who needs to slow down her obsessions and choose between Gunther or Jester. And the next few chapters will be much, much longer. Enjoy!
PS: Yes, yes, yes, I know... the (c) belongs to Martin Baynton. Unless I bring in my own character who is then mine. :D
Jester gazed out of his window, a heavy pain in his eyes as he watched Jane in the practice court. Five years had passed and they had all grown into their late teens, but Jester's feelings towards Jane had never changed. Not that he had ever had the courage to tell her, though. Not even now, at nineteen-years of age. He simply remained the best human friend he could possibly be, whenever Jane needed a listening ear.
Jester strummed a minor chord on his lute, a deep melancholy settling over him.
It was a rainy day, the sky weeping in torrents. The King had kindly given him the day off, but Sir Theodore had insisted that the squires spar in the rain. No matter the weather, if there were enemies at the gate, they had to be prepared. And so Jester watched a mud-covered Jane sadly.
"Tales of Unrequited Love," he quietly sang the first line of one of his most melancholy ballads. His heart felt heavy. That was the easiest way to describe his feelings. A 'tale of unrequited love', considering that Jane would never see him as anything but a friend, no different from Rake or Smithy.
He sighed, and put down his instrument. It was perhaps not the best thing to do at the moment, he told himself firmly. But there was not much else to do on this rainy day, and he found himself settling back on the window ledge, gazing out as Jane and Gunther struck at each other. Their exercise had something of a rugged grace to it, as they moved in perfect rhythm, like a gypsy dancer, and Jester felt a pang of envy. Jane and Gunther got to spend so much time together...even if they spent most of their time bickering.
A sudden spark of an idea to quench his boredom lit up Jester's bright mind, and he pulled a sheaf of parchment towards him, as well as a quill. Dipping the quill in some ink, he quickly began to sketch the dance-like movements he saw, and soon found he was enjoying himself. His quill began to take on the sparring shapes of Jane, who he drew with great care and tenderness, and Gunther. Around the picture, he began to write in an elegant script such as those in the finest books of the king. He had no idea what the words would come to, but soon found the beginning of a ballad forming on the side of his sketch.
Jester smiled in spite of himself. The ballad sang of red hair and green eyes and grace with a blade, as well as a pretty face and kind smile. And yet, it never once named its subject. Shaking his head, Jester slipped it among the many papers on his desk, and picked up his lute again. No one could ever see the drawing. The thought that Jane might see it made him squirm, and as a last comfort that that would never happen, he tossed it towards the grate. The words to the ballad would come to him if he felt a need of them.
Strumming a few more chords, Jester moved away from the window and began playing again, yet his pain had not lessened. It had just been appeased for the moment, ready to strike back.