#also peep my reference to the “my blorbo was born alongside the birth of Ancient Greece” hc that I posted like over a year ago

[literallyjusttoa]

"A Jester can mock, and the King cannot fight

For the gift of free thought is the jester's one right."

A sweet golden prince who lived up in the sky,

Listened to his families' terrible fights,

The ceiling would rumble, the tile would shake,

The throne room was fragile, and soon it would break.

He'd attempt to speak, but it never went right,

His father would rage, and he'd lose every fight,

As decades passed by, it soon became clear,

The King saw his son as a monster to fear.

The Prince quickly followed every command,

Only to be trapped by his father's cruel hand,

Years of destruction with no end in sight,

This war would not end with a large act of might.

And so the Prince stopped fighting fire with fire,

And instead he pulled out his golden stringed lyre,

Since he had no respect, he would leave the King's cage,

And swap out the throne room for a shining stage.

He taunted with wit and he giggled with guile,

And even his sorrow he shared with a smile,

His father's gaze lessened, his temper was tame,

As his once "Golden Prince" treated life like a game.

The centuries passed and the mirth never ceased,

The sun never set on the first son of Greece,

He danced for his siblings and bit down his pain,

Since each peal of laughter meant there'd be less rain.

There's only one role for which there are no rules,

So who is the jester, and who is the fool?