Interlude: The Jester and the Saint

The dimension was drowning in silence after Castiel was sent back to the real world. A thick, suffocating stillness, as if the void itself was holding its breath.

Jester remained seated in his chair, motionless, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. If it weren’t for the faint jingling of the bells on his hat, he might’ve been mistaken for a statue.

Then—

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, echoing behind him.

He didn’t turn around. He already knew who it was.

“You meddled.” A monotone voice. Cold. Unshaken. “Why did you help him?”

Jester didn’t react right away. Instead, he let the silence stretch, savoring the moment like a fine wine. Then, suddenly—

“Ohohoho! You have the audacity to barge into my domain uninvited, dear sister?” His voice was pure amusement, dripping with mockery. “Tsk, tsk. How terribly rude.”

“Don’t test me.” Her voice remained even, but there was the faintest edge to it. “You knew Castiel was supposed to die at the hands of Blackbeard. That’s how the story was written.”

Jester snickered. “Oh, was it?”

The woman exhaled sharply, an almost imperceptible sign of frustration. “The script was clear. He was meant to die there. His story was not supposed to go beyond that point.”

“But of course,” Jester hummed, finally leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. The grin carved into his mask didn’t change, but something in the air did. “A script that only existed because you altered it in the first place.”

The woman didn’t respond.

Jester chuckled darkly. “Caught red-handed, hm? You nudged him toward Cradena, away from Vandal, away from where he was supposed to be. If you hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have needed to step in.”

Still, silence.

“Ohhh,” Jester leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head, his bells jingling lightly. “I see what you’re doing. You’re trying that again, aren’t you?”

The woman’s expression didn’t shift, but Jester could feel the tension ripple beneath her carefully crafted apathy.

“You know,” Jester continued, his voice slipping into something softer—mocking, but carrying a weight beneath the playfulness, “when dear old father made us, he was very specific about our roles. You were supposed to be the beacon of hope. I was supposed to be the hand of chaos. We were meant to balance the world, to keep the gears turning.”

His fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair, rhythmically.

“And yet, here we are. You keep trying to rig the game. You keep twisting the pieces into a shape you like. And that forces me—” he placed a dramatic hand over his chest “—to be the reasonable one. The nice one.” He clicked his tongue. “So tell me, little sister, who’s truly at fault?”

The woman exhaled slowly, tilting her chin downward. “Don’t interfere with my goals.”

Jester let out a slow whistle, tapping his gloved fingers together. “Fine, fine. I won’t meddle in your affairs.” Then, his tone dipped lower, cruel amusement threading through his next words.

“But that boy?” Jester tilted his head. “He’s not him, Valtheria.”

A pause.

“He’s gone. Your dear, beloved husband is gone. And no matter how many times you twist the threads of fate, no matter how many times you reset the board, no matter how many Castiels you throw away—” His voice curled around her like a whisper, like a knife. “—he’s never coming back.”

For the first time, her breath hitched.

Jester grinned beneath his mask. “Ahh, silence. My favorite sound.”

Then, suddenly, the void shuddered.

Jester stood, stretching leisurely, then snapped his fingers. A single tarot card flickered into existence between his fingertips, its golden edges glinting in the dim light. He turned it, slowly, letting the weight of its meaning hang in the air.

“That boy…” he murmured, his voice filled with something unreadable—excitement, anticipation, something deeper. “He’s my first visitor who bears The Fool Arcana.”

Valtheria’s eyes flickered toward the card, staring at the familiar symbol. “A new beginning…” she murmured. “Taking risks and embracing life’s opportunities…”

Jester chuckled, twirling the card between his fingers. “Exactly. And ohhh, what a game-changer he is. If my visions are correct…” He let out a shuddering sigh, as if barely able to contain his excitement. “That boy is dangerous. A true wildcard. A force of pure chaos. My kind of person.”

Valtheria remained unreadable. “So you really believe Castiel is different from the others.”

“I know he is,” Jester corrected, his voice dropping into something softer, almost reverent. Then, just as quickly, the mischievous spark returned. “Ahhh, but enough about my fascinating new toy. Are you finally leaving? I do have things to do, you know.”

Valtheria stared at him for a moment longer, then nodded. “I’m returning to my duties as humanity’s guide.” She turned on her heel, already fading into the void. “But if Castiel becomes a failure…”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Jester only grinned wider. “Ohhh, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, dear sister.”

And with that, she was gone.

Jester stood there for a moment, tapping the tarot card against his chin. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the card vanished.

He let out a slow, delighted sigh.

“Ohhh, this is going to be so much fun.”