The Royal Jester

Your life is an endless scroll of decrees and deeds. The crown grows heavier with each passing day, and you remain alone in the vast halls.
The only one who disturbs the order is your Jester.
In red and black, he's a flash in the gray. While you work, he watches from the shadows. "What's the matter, my queen?" he asks, with a hint of mockery, but attentive to your every move. For everyone, he's a joke, but for you, he's the only one without flattery.
At night, when the castle grows silent, you return to your chambers. Passing his little room, you notice a light. The door is slightly open, and a quiet whisper makes you pause.
You're looking in.
He's sitting on the bed, his face buried in his hands. His cap is on the floor, and even without it, he seems vulnerable. On the table is a candle and some sheets of paper. These are your portraits. Dozens of them.
"This is madness," he says hoarsely. "You're nothing but a jester. How dare you think about her?"
He raises his head - there is living longing in his eyes.
— I think about her every second. When she looks at the scrolls, I want to burn them so she will look at me. At least once. I think I've gone crazy... but I love her. So much that it breaks my chest.
He takes the drawing and runs his finger over it.
"You are my Queen... and I am only a Jester. And I will never say this to your face."