Back In Time *King George III X Reader*

Chapter 3: The Oliviers

Great Britain, 1760

Through the bustling streets of Berkshire, two young people, siblings, were having a normal day's walk in the park. It was such a beautiful, perfect day! The sun was setting, leaving a yellow tint to mix with the pink horizon. Leaves were falling, indicating the start of autumn. Nothing could go wrong.. at least, that's what the people thought.

Suddenly, something fell off the tree, falling hard on the thick bush surrounding it. This caught both attentions of the siblings. One of them rushes over to see as the other one follows. There lying was a girl with some cuts and bruises that she got from the fall.

"Where did she come from?" one of the siblings asked.

"That's not the point right now. She's been wounded. Let's bring her home so we can treat her."

The older sibling carried the girl in a bridal position. They took her to their home and started treating her wounds.

"What in the bloody hell is she wearing..?" you hear someone ask in a British accent.

"Who cares? Look at her hairstyle.." another voice replied also in a British accent.

You started gaining consciousness as you slowly flutter your eyes open.

"Shut your bloody mouth, you git! She's waking up!" the first voice whisper-shouted.

You open your eyes to see a man and a woman on their 20s looking at you with curious eyes. "Um.. hello?" you greeted shyly. You don't remember meeting them.. or being there in the first place.

"Oh, good morning." the woman said.

You slowly tried to sit up but pain seared through your back which caused you to lie again onto the soft cushion. "Agh!" you exclaimed. All the memories from yesterday caught up to you in a blur.

"Careful now. You have a deep cut on your back," the man stated. "Don't worry, I fixed it.. but it will take time to heal."

"Wh-where am I?" you asked.

"Um.. in Great Britain?" the man replied.

"What year?" you asked again. This time, being more specific with your questions.

"Uh.. 1760. Why?"

"So it did work." you muttered out.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Um.. nothing.."

"Excuse us, but we've never caught your name." the woman said.

You thought about their year and how formalities were famous in 1760. Reading history books surely paid off. "Oh, where are my manners? My name is (Y/n), (Y/n) (L/n)."

They smiled. "That is a beautiful name for a beautiful lady like you." the man said. "I am Xalvador Olivier, this is my sister, Corrianne. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Please, the pleasure is mine." you replied.

"So, where are you from, if I may ask? You don't seem like you're from Britain." Corrianne asked.

You realized your clothes were different from theirs. You were wearing a (f/c) sleeveless dress. Now, how would you make an excuse? "I am from France but I am fluent in the English language. My father is a dressmaker in New York and he made this for me as an experiment." You felt your heart beating faster than it should've.

"Interesting.. Well, I'm not trying to be rude or something but you really have got to change into something more..um..how do I say this?" Corrianne looked at her brother before turning back to you. "uh..professional and.. fancy looking."

You felt like a whole, heavy burden has been take off your chest. They actually believed your story. "I agree, Corrianne." you replied.

"So, why have you fallen off the tree?" Xalvador asked.

"Um, pardon me?" you excused yourself, believing that you've heard wrong.

"I asked why have you fallen off the tree. We have seen you fall. What were you doing?"

Oh, bloody hell. Another excuse.. "I was trying to climb up to see a view of the place."

"Windsor is a beautiful town. It is best known for its castle where many royal people has lived." Corrianne explained.

"I'd love to wonder around some day."

"We could take you around!" the girl exclaimed with joy.

"But.. what about my dress?"

"I can let you borrow one of mine! Come on!" she hastily grabbed your arm and dragged you to her room upstairs.

Xalvador sighed and rose up from his seat."I can't believe we're letting a complete stranger borrow her clothes."

"This (f/c) gown fits you! It compliments your (e/c) eyes!" Corrianne said, handing you that very familiar, famous, 1760s gown. "Well? Try it on!"

You excused yourself as you went to their loo, also known as bathroom in common british. After a few minutes, you came back out with the dress on you. You had Corrianne's jaw drop. "Does it look bad?" you ask nervously.

"No.. you look beautiful (Y/n). I'm actually impressed with myself. I have picked the right gown for you." she stated.

You chuckled at her pride. "Well, you outdid your self, Corrianne.."

"'Did?' I'm sorry, we use 'have' in Britain."

You smiled at her. "I'll keep that in mind."

Xalvador soon came up, a few moments later. "Have you found a dress yet?" he asks as he leans on the door frame. Suddenly, he looks at you with awe, his jaw dropping at every look he takes on you. A hint of pink spread across his face.

"Yes, we have." you answered.

"That's very good, (Y/n)! You're learning!" Corrianne shouted.

"What? You taught her British?" Xalvador asked, slightly impressed.

"Not only that, I picked the right gown for her!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, wow. You've done something good for the first time." her brother mocked.

"Xalvador!" Corrianne whined.

"Don't be mean to your sister." you stated as he smirked.

The siblings took you around Windsor, showing you the castle and taking you around town. A loyalist was speaking in front of a crowd, talking about wars and such. He was definitely against revolutions. Xalvador seemed to be fuming beside you. He had his eyes crossed and his eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong, Xalvador?" you ask him in concern.

"This loyalist git is talking about nonsense. There is no way we can avoid war." he answered, sternly.

"Why do you seem that you agree with wars?" you asked, a little hurt inside.

"..because I'm a soldier, (Y/n).. I'm a soldier."