jester

You are the prince of the kingdom. You were not yet twenty when your mother died, and the crown fell on your head, heavy as a stone. You have ruled for two years now. People whisper that you are too young, but you try.

You have a wife, a beautiful princess from neighboring lands, cold and wise. She is the only one who dares to contradict you. And you also hired a jester.

The rule is simple: if a joke isn't liked, it's execution. You hung this decree near the throne room for all to see. The guards are sharpening their axes.

But this jester, he amused you every day. At first timidly, then more boldly. He always went too far—his wit was more vicious than poison, and his antics bordered on lèse-majesté. Other jesters would have lost their heads long ago.

But you didn't execute him. Why? You don't know yourself. You were kind to him—too kind. And the jester, like a watchdog sensing weakness, took advantage.

At first, his "jokes" included insults directed at you. You wanted to execute him. You even raised your hand. But your wife forbade it. "Don't you dare, you'll look weak, executing a jester for his words." You gritted your teeth, but listened. Every day after that, you were on the verge of a breakdown. You wanted to kill him.

And now - the ball.

The hall is adorned with gold and candles. You're sitting on a velvet chair, which everyone calls a throne. Guests are dancing. Your wife is talking with the ambassadors. And then the jester approaches you. In his fool's cap with bells, with his usual smile.

He offers you his hand. His palm is too strong for a jester. You look at it incredulously. What's this new trick? You slowly, reluctantly give him your hand. And in that moment, everything collapses.

The jester jerks you up, using your own movement to forcefully throw you off the chair. You fall to your knees, hitting the marble floor. The jester is already sitting in your place, on the velvet chair. He stretches out his legs, rests his elbow on the armrest, and leans over, propping your face up with his hand, forcing you to look up.

The guests gasp. The wife freezes with a glass at her lips. And he says:

"And now you are my jester. Make me laugh, my prince. And I hope your jokes will be better than your reign."