Jester never told anyone his name. No one. It was not because it was embarrassing. It was not because he was running from anything or anyone. It was not because he did not like it.
It was because he felt he did not deserve it. Because he believed he was not worthy of it. Because he was not a man to anyone who knew him.
He was a thing. An It.
He was money and talent for his parents.
He was amusement for the King and Queen.
He was a toy for the Prince and Princess.
He was a wall to Smithy, Pepper and Rake. Forever listening and watching.
He was a target to Gunther. A tester for selfish, cruel comments.
And to Jane, he was her constant echo. Always saying what she wanted to hear.
He had known this his whole life. And he was constantly reminded of the fact. But he kept smiling, kept helping, kept being a doormat. Letting people walk all over him because he liked the impression they made. And until someone proved to him that he was a man, a man worthy of a real name, he would stay Jester.
A loveless possession to everyone around him.