My loyal, royal subject - Kingbury

Chapter 11

Sam hesitated as he left to go speak about the continental congress, but forced himself to do it. It is why he came to America anyways.

He struggled to climb onto the stage with his injured arm, but when he did, he felt oddly more confident as he looked over the crowd, and he pulled his papers out of his bag.

As he spoke, people looked at him like he was crazy. But for some reason, he didn't seem to care.

Once he finished speaking, a few people actually clapped for him. Bowing awkwardly, he put his papers away and jumped off the stage, a huge smile on his face. Without Alexander here, things were looking up.

When he got back to his hotel and went inside, there was a red envelope with a royal seal sticker on the front. Nervously, Sam picked it up, making sure to not tear the sticker as he opened it.

Sam read the letter, grinning and squealing with excitement. The king felt the same way about him! He jumped up and down excitedly at the thought of going back to Britain and being with the king - his king!

He decided to write a response later, since it was almost time to visit Charles.

'What should I do to pass the time?' He asked himself, before having an idea. Charles had wanted to see some of his art, so why not draw him?

Sam picked up a pencil, quickly drawing his friend. It didn't quite look perfect like he wanted it to be, but it was time to leave anyways. He carefully put the drawing in his bag, trying not to fold it too much.

He eagerly pushed past people in the square, crying out in pain when someone harshly shoved past him, knocking him to the ground. He landed directly on his injured arm and tears prickled in his eyes from the pain, but he just got back up. Reaching the hospital, he went inside and up to the front desk.

"H-hello, I'm here to see Charles Lee?" He exclaimed, though it sounded more like a question.

"Well, you know what room he's in." The secretary said, and Sam nodded, excitedly heading to the room he was pretty familiar with, considering he had stayed in it.

"Hey, Sam! What's up?" Charles said, smiling. He was sitting against the headboard of his hospital bed, his knees pulled up to his chest.

"N-Not much! What's up with you? You seem to be doing a bit b-better, considering you were, y'know, shot in the side." Sam exclaimed, sitting in the chair by Charles' bed.

"Yeah, the doctor says I should be able to go home tomorrow. I can't walk very fast, but it could be worse." Charles shrugged, smiling. Sam smiled back. Suddenly he remembered; he made Charles a drawing.

Pulling the drawing out of his bag, he handed it to Charles.

The room was silent for a few seconds, and Samuel thought that maybe Charles didn't like it. He looked down, frowning.

"Sam..." Charles started, and Samuel cut him off.

"I'm sorry, Y-you just wanted to see my art, I should have just brought some instead of drawing you..." Sam exclaimed tearfully.

Charles threw his arms around Sam, hugging him tightly and grinning.

"No, Sammy! I love it, you really didn't have to draw me, but thank you! Nobody has ever been this nice to me." He said loudly, and Sam smiled back at him.

"Thank you."