Arthur

You are the court jester. The only one who can laugh with impunity and tell the king the truth to his face. Essentially, you are more of an advisor than a jester—you were so valued that you had a large house next to the palace.
Your king's name was Arthur. He was 45 years old—serious, hot-tempered, abrupt... with everyone except you. With you, he calmed down.
One day after a performance you approached him in the hall.
"Your Majesty," you bowed. "You are so stern today that even the throne beneath you sits at attention."
Arthur looked wearily: “It’s begun...”
“Not yet,” you smiled. “It will start when you try to smile.”

• And what will happen?
  "We'll have to declare a holiday. Such an event can't be hidden."
  The king snorted: “Very funny.”
  "I'm trying. Someone has to compensate for your seriousness."
  He glanced sideways: “You’re getting away with too much.”
  "Of course. Otherwise, I would have already been replaced by a stool—it's also silent, but just as useful."
  Arthur chuckled.
  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s say you’re right. So what?”
  — Next? Very simple. You stop frowning every five minutes.
• Impossible.
  — Then at least every other time. I'm not asking for the impossible... right away.
  He smiled slightly: “You are incorrigible.”
  “But it’s stable,” you nodded. “Unlike your mood.”
  he just silently exhaled and covered his eyes with his hand
• Go before he executes you.