Moments later, the splashing water was heard in the king's bedchamber. A fireplace glowed in flames to view George standing naked under the dressing gown that Anastasia sorted it out for him. His feet were dirty while her feet remained the same as his. She did not want to look after herself, so she decided to look after her husband who was twitching as he mumbled softly.
The sponge was in her hand as she washed the dirt off his body while Reynolds was washing on the other side. Brimsley was standing in the distance away as he looked after his queen, "If Your Majesty prefers to retire, Mr. Reynolds and I--"
Her eyes revealed boldly to her right-hand man as she interrupted him, "Am I not permitted to wash the king?" Her eyes shifted to the sponge that was cleaning the dirt off of his shoulder.
"It is just not usual."
"I confess I still have to learn about palace procedure. For instance, I just pulled the king out of a hole in the vegetable garden where he was busy discouring with the sky." She snapped her furious eyes to Brimsley who was annoyed about the orders given to her. "Is that usual?"
Brimsley lowered his eyes in guilt before Reynolds shared a look with him. Anastasia returned scrubbing the dirt while George was mumbling as his eyes were lost in the distance. She couldn't help but stare at him with concern and frustration. Her lips pressed together to contain the emotions inside of her that were ready to burst out in tears.
"No, Your Majesty. The king has not been himself lately," said Reynolds.
Her voice began to crack as her eyes set on the men who were quiet, "What is this? What is happening!? What has happened to my George!?!" Her eyes returned to him as his eyes remained in the distance, breathing heavily while she was trying to read his mind. She wanted to know the full story.
George's mind, heard her voice breaking. The whispers in his head remained strong when he began to tell his story from his mind. From the very beginning, from a week before the wedding.
***
From the field, King George and Farmer George was lowering above the horse that was laying on the grass. Dressed in his usual farming clothing while the legs of the horse were tied in a rope. A farmer was untying the rope while he talked to his friend, Crosby. "He has a strong will. A mind of his own. Cuts his own trail now and then, but nothing better for driving a plow. Purpose-bred on my farm at Richmond."
George was petting the head of a horse as he whispered the comforting words while Crosby responded, "He is a beautiful creature, Your Majesty." He hummed in agreement until he heard a hesitant voice, "Though I confess..."
George looked up, then comforted the farmer. "Go on, speak plainly."
"I'm used to the old ways. Oxen are so much more predictable."
"Is he free?' George asked the farmer who informed him that the horse was free.
He clicked his tongue, letting the horse rise up to stand. He patted him softly before he continued talking to Crosby with his hands on his hips, "When you see that two of these horses can accomplish in a day what took a team of oxen a week you shall learn how easily old habits die. With the new plows, the Dutch are--"
"Excuse me, Your Majesty." He turned to see Reynolds who was approaching him in the field, which he had never done before unless it was urgent news. "It is the Dowager Princess. You're needed at the palace."
"Tell her I'm busy in a field."
"I'm afraid she insists. I believe..." George waited for him as he hesitantly informed him. "I believe she's found you a bride."
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.
His legs gave away while he felt arms around him, and the mother shushed him. I am to be married. Married to me. Marriage over a contract. Estelle Anastasia of Valiant. Estelle Anastasia of Valiant. Estelle Anastasia of Valiant. Estelle Anastasia of Valiant. Estelle Anastasia of Valiant.
His eyes darkened with the sight of the laboratory while listening to the voices in his mind. There were doctors and Princess Augusta discussing the condition. His condition. He felt two hands hold his face which he was averting away. The hands remained strong as an unfamiliar voice spoke to him.
"Listen, boy. Remember yourself. You are the king of England. You have thousands prepared to die at a word from you. You have armies, navies at your command. You command an entire kingdom. You can command yourself too.'
His sight became more clear to see a man hovering over him while the whisperings became more quiet. He gasped softly to see the doctors and his mother in the room while the doctor stood up straight from him. "You're to marry in a week. Are you fit to marry, George?"
George had his voice back as he nodded softly to a man who brought him back. "I am."
A week later, it was now his wedding day, the King arrived at the palace which brought more cheers from a ton. He hadn't got a moment to breathe ever since he entered the palace. He was seated on the throne chair in the reception hall with all the men including Reynolds.
From a corner of his eye, he saw Brimsley who was rushing in fear and sweating with nerves. He approached Reynold as he whispered to him that his eavesdropping ear could hear him. "There is a problem."
"What have you done, Brimsley?"
"The bride is missing."
His hand began twitching as he felt more nerves coming to his brain. Repeatedly commanded himself to halt the urges by holding his fist together, but the whisperings between the right-hand men consumed him. Inhaling as he quickly exited the room to meet his doctor. Dr. Monro was in the corridor when he needed air to his favorite place in the palace, the garden.
Dr. Monro suspected George in front of him, "What are you doing?"
His eyes were shaken with nerves as he was holding on to the cracking that was coming to him. "Disappearing. As evidently, the bride has done. No bride, no wedding."
"If your bride is missing, it is your responsibility to remedy that."
"Probably for the best. It was... premature, all this. I'm not ready, not right."
"I have examined you thoroughly, and you are perfectly right."
George nodded in disbelief before he revealed his twitching hand, "Do I look perfectly right to you?" Dr. Monro walked closer to him and grabbed his hand, then he looked into his eyes.
"You are perfectly right."
All of a sudden, he slapped him across the cheek. By a miracle, the twitching stopped until the guards rushed toward them with swords. George stopped them as he informed him that he caused no harm. He stood straight and strong while his doctor examined him, then he confessed that he is perfectly right. Dr. Monro smiled softly to hear before he stepped out of the way.
George was breathing deeply as he took in the fresh air in the garden.
Calming his mind down. Walking down through bushes to take on his own privacy. His shoes continued walking, and walking, and walking until... he was stopped at the sight of a young woman throwing heels over the wall with purple wildflowers. A woman in a traditional wedding gown that he instantly knew was his bride. Estelle Anastasia of Valiant.
His curious mind began to wonder why she began to fathom why taking her heels off in order to-- she walked toward the wall as she began to climb. She was trying to escape the horrors as much as he wanted to, it seemed she had through experience of climbing but the gown she was wearing was slowing her down.
His feet walked forward as he cleared his throat and clutched her head down, "Hello, My Lady, are you in need of assistance of some kind?"
She began to speak, her voice... was enchanted to him like a star. A sparkling star that he did not want to leave. While she was trying to urge him to assist her to climb a wall in order to get away from the wedding, particularly the king. Predicting that the King himself is a beast, troll, or a disfigured giant with warts.
Her words could not help but amused him. Her personality that she was hiding her face from him was fierce, outspoken, adventurous, and smart due to the calculations of physics in her head... and her sense of the literary word in fairy tales for ladies in distress. He knew deep down that she was special and more experienced than any other noblewoman he met in England. Especially when she began to raise her voice at him as she marched up to him for answers.
"I'm a lady of distress. You refuse to help a lady in distress?"
"I refuse when that lady in distress is trying to go over a wall so that she doe not have to marry me."
There she was who finally revealed her face, just Anastasia... his Anastasia.
His breath was taken back by her beauty. Her hair is golden red in a style that he has never seen before. Her eyes were sparkled with brown like the stars and she had a small mole above her left eyebrow. Her lips were inviting as well her smile brightened the presence from her. Her figure was short but her voice remained fierce even when she awed him when she stood on her toes so she tried to be tall above his shoulders.
Her plan did not succeed but he could not be more smitten with her in every step of the way. Hearing her laugh and seeing her smile, he could sense that her happiness began to bloom for a long time. He had never felt more enchanted since he first met her as a person. A person who was just Anastasia... as he was just George.
***
"I do need to do anything. I decide. I have decided. I am your king!"
From his eyes, his voice was louder. From his eyes, he saw Anastasia was close in tears in her wedding gown with a cloak. All she ever wanted was to be alone with him, but she could not. He feared that he would harm her, but he hated that she was emotionally hurt by him.
Her face remained strong while her eyes showed pain, "My mistake. I thought you were just George. Forgive me, Your Majesty." She curtseyed him as she lowered her eyes from him, which he did not want from her.
"Anastasia."
Her eyes returned to him, "May I withdraw, Your Majesty, or is there anything else you want to say?"
In his state, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, telling her he apologized in his regrettable voice. He took a step toward her as she took a step back. She was frightened of him. "An... Anastasia, this is for the best."
"Of course, Your Majesty. Whatever you wish." George stared at her while his mouth hesitated with words. Anastasia stood firm in her place before he turned his back. He marched off, passing the staff who were bowing to him. His eyes focused on the carriage which it transported to Kew.
At his arrival at Kew Palace, he summoned Reynolds to the observatory. Pacing back and forth while his mind could not think about his wife. The moment she was walking down the aisle in her choice of a wedding gown, his eyes did not peer away from her. All the nerves from his mind were gone whenever she smiled at him when he recited the vows to her. From the moment they shared their union together in a kiss... it was perfect... Unconditionally perfect.
"Does Your Majesty not find the queen attractive?"
George looked at Reynolds as he paced forth. He spoke the truth as he shook his head in awe. "I didn't know a woman could be so beautiful."
"Perhaps is she dull?"
"She's terribly clever. That is the problem. If she were ugly, if she were dull, I might feel up to the task. Instead, her... brilliance shows that..." His breath sighed as he reminisced the moment when he first saw her incomparable, he softly smiled. "... shows a troll I am."
George looked down while Reynolds witnessed the love from his majesty as she talked about his wife. He asked softly with a suggestion, "If I may. Your Majesty may only be blinded by that brilliance."
"Her perfection is matched only by my deformity. She belongs as far from me as she can get."
George turned away as he walked toward a table with his papers. "Will Your Majesty not be returning to Buckingham House?"
He returned back to Reynolds as his voice remained clear. "I have done as they asked. I married. Now I shall leave her alone, safe from me." Reynolds stared softly as George collected the papers before he lowered down on the platform, "I shall return to my... planets, my stars. They, at least, I can be sure not to harm. Good night, Reynolds."
George started spreading the papers on the platform when he heard the doors close. His breathing softened when he looked at the stars' calculations. He tried to focus on the stars for the distraction, but all he ever distracted from... was her. Her voice, her hair, her eyes, her smile. Everything that touched his heart slowed down the focus which he did not mind as he smiled.
A few nights later, he was looking at the papers with an empty dish in front of him. The door burst open, revealing Reynolds who was in urgent need. "Your Majesty."
"I already had my dinner."
"Of course. There is something I need--"
He interrupted with a reminder, "Reynolds. Was I not clear I'm not to be disturbed under any circumstances?"
"You were, Your Majesty. It is just that this circumstance is rather..." George waited for him to finish his thought while he was shifting his body nervously. "The Queen is coming."
"What? Why was I not informed?"
"No one was informed. She just appeared."
Exclaimed loudly as he quickly stood up, "Good God!"
"She is at the bridge. She will be here any moment."
George looked down, seeing the dirty dishes on the platform. He pushed Reynolds away before he quickly cleaned up the dishes. Running around quickly as he set the tray on the table. Preparing himself to be calm in front of the telescope as he peeked at the constellation.
Until the doors opened, hearing the heels clinking toward him. Hiding a smile, drowning in thoughts before he turned to Anastasia who was dressed beautifully in an orange gown with royal blue cloak. He smiled and chuckled in delight while she curtseyed with confusing eyes, "Anastasia. Hello. Here you are."
Throughout the moment between the king and queen, whereas she was complaining about her lonely days without him on their honeymoon. He knew that all she ever wanted was to be him as he much wanted to be her. Her voice continued to raise as he took back each step toward him, "I am eight and ten years old, and suddenly I am a queen in a strange country with strange food and strange customs. The reason you do not understand is that this is who you were born to be.'
"I cannot do whatever I like. The queen is not allowed to go to the modiste, galleries, theatre, or library without servants around. I cannot make friends except by writing letters to a friend who is living in Germany. I must hold myself apart. I do not know a single soul here except for you.'
"I'm completely alone and you prefer the sky to me." He could not speak as he looked into her eyes filled with sadness. He wanted her to be happy. Happy enough she can live without him. "GEORGE!!"
"WHAT!?"
"SAY SOMETHING!!"
"I do not want to fight with you."
"Well, I do! Fight with me!" He could hear the whispers coming from his head. Venus. Transit of Venus. She does not care. Not care. His fists were firm on the paper as he was controlling the urge, not to harm her or reveal the episode in front of her. "Fight for me!"
His voice was louder than the whispers, "Go home, Anastasia!"
Her eyes longed for him while he averted her gaze. His ear listened to her sad chuckle before she obeyed his words. His eyes raised up to see her walking out of the observatory. Shaking his head, before he threw the paper out of frustration as he looked at the heavens.
The next morning, George was sitting at a table when he heard the doors open. His eyes followed the doors, seeing his visitor. Dr. Monro was walking inside the observatory. "Doctor, thank you for coming so quickly."
"Of course, Your Majesty. A most impressive scientific collection." George smiled in pride to hear from a visitor. He never had visitors in his observatory before until Anastasia invited herself last night. "I do not know if there is another to match it in England."
"Well, there are a few advantages to being a monarch. One is you get the best stuff." He changed the subject as he talked to Dr. Monro. "Monro, I... I need your help."
"Of course, Your Majesty." He walked closer to him on the platform while he explained his words, "I am near at hand for whenever Your Majesty feels a fit coming on."
"Well, the thing is, that is not enough. Look, I have learned a thing or two about science, and one thing I have learned is this. Scientists keep the best of it to themselves. Am I right, Monro?"
"I'm not sure I understand, Your Majesty."
"It can be years before the public learns of the newest discoveries, and for good reason. Say a doctor is brought in to treat a king, just for example. Of course, he could not risk failure or, God forbid, harming his Sovereign. So he would employ only his safest, his most proven treatments, keeping the cutting edge of his methods to himself until they are proven beyond a doubt. Do you understand me now?"
He nodded slightly, "I may begin to."
George began to walk closer to the doctor as he confessed his darkest fears. "It is not enough to cure the fits once they start. If the queen were to ever see me like, if she were to... flee from me, God forbid, if I were to hurt her... Surely, there must be something you could do.'
"Something to end the fits... forever."
"I have been experimenting with something more proactive."
"Please. I want to be well."
"I would require rooms in the palace, full access to Your Majesty at any time, and license to pursue more extreme measures."
"Anything. Whatever you have to do. We have the time and privacy of my honeymoon." Dr. Monro and King George shook hands as they vowed a proposition.