My loyal, royal subject - Kingbury

Chapter 8

A/N: Oop i already know this chapter is gonna be bad but whatever i gotta write good ol' King George some time, right

George sat awaiting response to his letter, absentmindedly reading a book. Though, he had been reading the same page for about twenty minutes, unable to focus.

There was a knock on his door and he practically threw the book down, sprinting across the room, his coat flying behind him with how fast he moved. He opened the door, and found one of his servants awkwardly holding a pile of his clothes.

"Um, your majesty. Your clothes have been washed for you? Where should I put them?" The servant asked. George rolled his eyes.

"Put them in the laundry room."He muttered, closing the door again. He didn't bother walking back to his bed to read, instead slumping to the floor and laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He knew that there was no way he could focus until he knew Sam was okay.

And he went back to the question of why. Why did he care so much about Samuel? He had no reason to.

Did he?

Samuel was just a short, awkward, ridiculously smart subject of his. And yet he felt an odd connection to him. He considered the idea of him having a crush on Sam, but dismissed that thought quickly.

Suddenly, there was another, louder knock on his door. He scrambled to his feet, readjusting his crown as he opened the door.

"Your majesty, there's a letter for you from America." The servant said, and George's heart skipped a beat at that line. The dream hadn't quite left his mind yet.

He quickly grabbed the letter, smiling at the servant and slamming the door in his face, not caring if he seemed rude or strange.

He tore open the letter, and frowned at the state of the paper before he even unfolded it. The paper was slightly yellowed and tearstained in places, and the king felt a bit more worried now.

He slowly read the letter, his hands beginning to shake when he read that Samuel had been challenged to a duel. Once he finished reading it, the paper fell from his hands, slowly falling to the floor. He couldn't do anything but sit there, staring at it. Tears slowly fell down his face, and a sob wracked his body, followed by another.

He couldn't believe that his feelings for Samuel were reciprocated. And he couldn't believe that Sam could be dead. And it felt like if Sam did die, it was all his fault.

After all, he sent him to America. He was the one who told him to go to America.

"H-he's dead, and it's all my fault!" George sobbed, curling up into a ball. He had always had a problem of jumping to conclusions, and now was not a good time to have that problem. But instead of getting proof for his panicked thoughts, or writing another letter to confirm if Sam was okay, he just stayed there, sobbing on the floor of his room.

And in that moment, even though he ruled over two countries, he felt so powerless.