𝑈𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 ~ 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐺𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒 𝐼𝐼𝐼

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐸𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛

He had no words when he heard the horse neighing from his back. His eyes stared out in the distance as he took in the news before he thrust his arm out for Reynolds. His boots began to lead on for walking at the St. James Palace.

The moment he arrived at the sitting room where the House of Lords accompanied his mother. He was cleaning the dirt off his hands with a rag as he entered. She called out his name before he stood righteously with an audience that he didn't want. "So good for you to clean up for us."

"I did not expect so much company. You should not have troubled them. I cannot stay long." He walked closely in the center of the room when he threw a rag to the nearest chair. He put his hands on his hips while his eyes were consumed by containment. "Let us get on with the thing, then."

"The thing?"

"You know, the thing. The thing where you enumerate the many meritorious qualities of some chosen noblewomen. And I remind you how uninterested I am in the qualities of noblewomen."

Lord Bute interred with an informative tone, "Your Majesty, just this week Pitt and Newcastle moved to place royal revenues under control of the House--"

"Bute, you interrupted my mother. She was about to say that this lady's ancestors fought at Hastings, and is said to be very fine at the harpsichord. And then I was going to say... that I do not care for the harpsichord. See? I can play both parts."

"Every day you fail to produce an heir, our family's position weakens," said Augusta.

Snapping his fingers while his eyes were getting more furious as he heard the line many times. Smiling sarcastically as he took a step forward to proclaim his voice of reason. "Right. Thank you for the cue. Now I ask, is that all a king is? A royal stud-horse trotted out for the chosen mare? Or can a king rule in his own way through practical scientific study? Agricultural improvement?'

"Tell me, what would the people prefer? A royal baby or cheap bread?"

"Right now, they have neither." Princess Augusta rose from her seat as she sneered her words at her son. She inhaled sharply as she averted the face of George who was furious. She walked closer to him and informed him more, "The war has drained our coffers. Now the American colonies threaten to withhold taxes and Parliament revolts. The people need a king. A real king.'

"God knows you have had your... obstacles, but we cannot brook obstacles. Not any longer. So... I have found you a queen. Estelle Anastasia of Valiant."

"A French?" He exclaimed teasingly while his eyes remained shackled, "How exotic."

"I will not bore you with her qualities except for the best one. She is on a ship."

Ship. Ship. Ship. Ship over the oceans under the sun. A star. A star with stars. "A ship? Now?" 

"Bound for London." His eye started twitching as he tilted his head slightly to hear more whispers taking over his brain. Lose the moon. She would lose the moon. The bride losing the moon. The stars. Over the shore. Over Dover. Over... storms. Losing the moon. "The betrothal contracts are signed. It is done."

Done. Not done. Done. "Impossible. She will...  She will lose the... moon." The whispering began louder over the Lord's and his mother's voices. His muttering became more unclear to the audience, "There are storms over the Strait of Dover. Matters not your captain or your sextant.'

His right hand began to shake as it held firm which Augusta immediately noticed the twitch. "No sky, no moon. No moon, no lunars. No lunars, no longitude. No longitude, no bride. She loses the moon, and she is lost." He was going to crack as she began to order everyone to withdraw. They all quickly left to leave him alone with his mother as she took hold of him.