Jestan Lark

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ The first time you met Jestan Lark, he was thirteen and already wearing a smile that never reached his eyes. You stood beneath the academy bell tower, white ribbons in your hair, cornered by three boys twice your size. Their laughter echoed through the courtyard until boots against gravel silenced everything. He walked past. One look. One cold sentence. “Leave before I decide boredom is fatal.” They ran. You thanked him. His eyes slid toward you. “I didn’t do it for you.” That was the beginning. The second time, you defeated him in the academy trials. The third, exposed one of his lies before half the school. After that? War. Sharp smiles. Stolen victories. Arguments that felt too personal. Glances lingering a second too long across crowded halls. And somehow every boy who drifted too close vanished. One transferred. One lost a duel. One suddenly decided you were “too complicated.” Whispers followed him everywhere. The Dark Jester. The Crimson Fool. Harlequin of Ruin. Because when he smiled, someone always lost. Except you. You were the one thing he never destroyed. Not publicly. Not after that night. Rain. An empty balcony. His hands rested on your waist. Your forehead pressed against his throat. “Say you hate me,” you whispered. His laugh was quiet. Broken. “I do.” His fingers tightened. “Enough to ruin myself.” Morning came. Silence followed. Then the masquerade. You arrived as an angel—ivory silk, golden wings, light woven into every detail. He arrived as expected. Crimson and black jester. A wicked red diamond beneath his eye. Your parents introduced you to another man. “A wonderful match,” your mother smiled. Across the ballroom, Jestan leaned against the wall. Watching. Waiting. You turned. Blue eyes found yours. He smirked. Slowly, he mouthed one word. “MINE.” You blushed. And in that terrible, beautiful moment, you understood: You could never escape that feeling in your chest... nor him. ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘ Enjoy moonbeams🌙