Once upon a time in a small state, the vassal of a larger state, there ruled a princess. She was named Princess Sangbleu and was often considered an imperious and unapproachable figure, regarded as competent in the best of times and 'charmingly ineffectual' in the worst. What she primarily was was beautiful. Her coat was a beautiful golden color, while her mane was a pure, milky white. She was aware of her shortcomings, for though she appeared to be a fool she was quite smart. She was simply too full of her own ego to be overly concerned.
She had around her a staff of competent individuals, and made every effort to draw on their skill, even as she made it appear she was the source of notions. She also had a large gathering of hangers-on, parasites that sought the prestige of her position to enhance their own, they were the extent of her 'friends,' with the occasional companion of the male or female persuasion, bought with basking in her presence, fancy gifts and expensive meals. It was a joyless time, a tedious time of insufferable boors and hollow relations.
One of the servants in the palace of Princess Sangbleu was a low-ranked steward, a functionary named Constantine. He was a donkey, a noble and well-constructed jack whose most defining feature was a set of ears that looked entirely out of place on a donkey. They were long and thin, rabbit-like in their appearance. Though it made him quite self-conscious he did his job with every bit of dignity and pride that he could muster.
Because of Princess Sangbleu's normal haughty disdain for what she considered 'trivial matters', those being all the important matters that go into running a palace, she seldom had cause to remain very long in areas where she could meet Constantine. However, after a minor matter outside the palace she grumped and groused about inside constantly, and one day met the noble and hard-working fellow.
She was instantly driven to approach the servant, to regard him with her icy eyes and air of superiority. For his own part, the jack had no idea what to do. His work was being interrupted, but to speak out of turn would be greatly disrespectful. They remained there for a time before the Princess finally said, “You...”
Constantine, unsure if that was a cue, gamely asked, “I, ma'am?”
Sangbleu lifted her head and snorted. “Your ears are long,” she said, and went on her way. Before leaving Constantine to his confusion, and slight sorrow, she learned his name from the majordomo, who knew such things, and requested that the jack be the one to deliver all her meals and correspondences. Though that job belonged to others, the majordomo could only agree it would be so.
There followed several odd and uncomfortable weeks of Constantine moving about the upper reaches of the palace, where he would never normally go, to the Princess' private chamber, bearing scrolls, packages or trolleys of food. He was not harmed, nor was he verbally insulted. But she was always short and curt with him, dismissing him once his duties had been discharged, often with little more than the words, “That will be all.”
Constantine, being a good and noble fellow, never complained or demanded some answer for the necessity of his presence. He simply bowed his head and commented, “Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.” His formality spoke well of his character.
After that period Princess Sangbleu cornered Constantine by her room, looming over him with her same cold look. “You deliver my meals and messages faithfully and properly. You excel at the menial.”
“Th-thank you, ma'am?” Constantine stammered, looking side to side.
“It is fact, not an attempt at a compliment,” Sangbleu stated. “You should serve in another capacity.”
“Another... another capacity, ma'am?” Constantine asked, a bit more concerned.
“Yes. Your obedience and your form suit you well to being my personal jester,” Sangbleu stated, sweeping her white mane from her face. “The affairs of state and concerns of the office are hard. I must have entertainment to ease my troubled mind. You will provide it, because I know you can.”
At first Constantine was silent, but he then said, from behind a false smile, “As you desire, ma'am. I will do as told.”
He was dressed in colorful motley, with bells and ribbons and even vines of laurel wrapped around his long ears, which added to their notability. He cavorted and smiled to the delight of Sangbleu, but never for any of her imitation friends. She kept him in a private room filled with the papers she needed to review and jealously guarded him.
He served his role as her jester for a good deal of time, performing the act he he was told to with great aplomb despite his hatred. He was truly a wonderful servant. But he knew it was wrong to be commanded so, and believed the Princess was keeping him there to mock his heritage and his physical features.
“Ma'am, I must voice a serious complaint,” Constantine said, while dancing about and shaking his ears.
“What is it you wish to say, jester?” Sangbleu asked, curtly, looking up from her desk and the mountain of papers upon it.
“It is never my intention to be obstreperous or truculent, ma'am, but I think this moves beyond the bounds of propriety,” Constantine answered, his face falling from false happiness to seriousness. “You treat me like a fool, ma'am, and keep me here in shame, away from others, mocking my species and my physical appearance. You, ma'am, are not a good mare at all, meaning no offense to you. You are, ma'am, a bully and a bigot and I need not put up with that insult any longer.” With that he turned to trot out of the room.
“Stop!” Sangbleu shut the doors to the room with her magic, standing up suddenly and scattering her papers around on her desk. The look in her eyes was not cold at all, but more... injured. “You... you would leave here in such a way? You would simply gallop away? Then I must ask something of you. Do you hurt me because you hate me, or do you hurt me because you believe I hate you, Constantine?”
Constantine ceased trying to open the door and looked on the Princess with surprise. “What?”
“Do you hate me, or do you think I hate you?” Sangbleu asked once more.
“You used my name. You know my name?” Constantine inquired, slowly stepping toward the desk.
“I have always known, from the first day I met you,” Sangbleu said, turning suddenly to look out the window behind her desk. “I asked the majordomo and had you made my personal courier... and now my jester. Because I...”
“Why, ma'am? Because you found me a joke, ma'am?” Constantine asked, coming closer to the desk, with more vehemence in his voice.
“Because I wanted you... to myself,” Sangbleu said softly, slowly stroking the glass of the window. “I could not let the world have you, to mistreat or malign you, to make less of you than the glory that is you.”
A stunned silence passed between the two figures, Constantine reaching up to lightly pull down an ear to really look at what he was wearing. The motley attire was made of soft satin, the colorful ribbons of pure silk in colors whose dyes were quite expensive. The laurel was fresh, as if replaced when he was not able to note it. Most tellingly, all the bells were made of solid gold with silver balls within to make them ring. “M-ma'am...” Constantine began.
“Please... cease calling me 'ma'am,'” Sangbleu insisted, turning her head slightly to look back at him. “I know there is fire in you, more boldness and wit than this hollow obsequiousness you show me. It ill suits you to act in such a way. I know you are more than this kind of a cringing functionary. You are obedient because you are made entirely of nobility, handsomeness and all the positive traits.”
Constantine looked slightly pained, turning his attention between Princess Sangbleu and the door. “Tell me, ma'am... tell me once and I will decide if I believe you, ma'am... did you bring me here because of my ears, or do you really mean the things you say? Ma'am.”
Sangbleu drew in a long, deep breath, dropping to all four and slowly strolling around the desk. “I was a fool. A simple, silly fool who thought I could take you away from the world and keep you all to myself, to look on your every perfection and be delighted. I could have you all to myself and never tell you the reason why. I thought you would know, that you could understand what I was saying without words. But that is a stupid thing, and I was stupid to believe it. I know that now. I should have said that from the first moment to now I have been entranced by you, completely enraptured in every way, by every motion and look. But I hated the false smile you gave. It hurt... but not so much as when you tried to leave and looked at me like... you hated me.”
“I... have been... vexed, ma'am... Princess Sangbleu,” Constantine said, looking slightly away. “I have not... I will... I will not be so formal. But could I ever believe that you feel that for me? A lowly servant, a jester... a donkey?”
“No!” Sangbleu ran up Constantine and desperately pressed a hot and messy kiss on Constantine, hooves on him, eyes wide and lightly shining with tears. The kiss was not one that would enter the annals of lore. It was not a legendary contact that lit the world on fire. But it was very honest.
Constantine could have resisted had he wanted. His strength, compared to the fragile unicorn mare, would have broken her body, and it would have been understandable. But he stood there. In his noble, upright and forthright way he was showing that he had some trust for the princess. Even when she pulled away he stood, tall and grand, saying to her, “You kiss poorly, Princess Sangbleu.”
“I do, yes, it is true,” The princess confessed. She slowly knelt down at Constantine's hooves and pressed her cheek against his chest. “But surely... I can learn.”
And they lived happily ever after.