Kingbury one-shots

It's quiet in the palace

Samuel Fredericks had grown old. His eyes grew weary, his hands started to shake. He couldn't very well walk without a cane or someone to lean on. He had grown old, not only with time but with grief.

February 25, 1784, Charlotte rose Blanchard was shot in a riot in London while out with her friends. It destroyed Samuel. He could still remember kneeling next to his daughter's side as George cradled her head in his lap.

"Daddy, Papa, I'm sorry... I should have been more careful "  Her voice was pained, tears streaking down her face.

 Samuel had sobbed nearly twice as hard after that, desperately assuring her that it was anything but her fault. Riots happened, it wasn't her fault. Charlotte had fought against fatigue to keep her eyes open.she wanted to sit up but Samuel and George knew it would put her in more pain than she was already in.

That day, it broke Samuel. He was never the same after the light left charlottes eyes.

 He didn't move for days, not that George did either. His usually compassionate and loving personality went distant and unresponsive. The morning after Charlotte died, Samuel Dan into her room, praying it was only  a dream, that his daughter was asleep, her hair out of control. The princesses bed was cold and empty, bearing not his daughter, but cold sheets.

He grew old.

Samuel could be silent for days, weeks on end, only nodding or shaking his head in answer to the questions asked of him. George worried. He had been struck by the grief, and it had taken its toll on him. He would see something that reminded him of Charlotte and would break out into sobs. He had changed from the maternal, kind and loving man to someone who had gone numb.

George feared Samuel loved him no longer. He could get Samuel to talk to him once in a while, even in his silent periods, but was helpless to him otherwise. He worked, hoping Samuel would think he was working too much and pester him to stop. It used to drive him crazy, but now he prayed for Samuel to close the ink jar and give him that look.

It was too quiet now. Charlotte no longer walked through the halls, carrying her newest drawing or painting to the balcony to dry in the fresh air. There was no longer the surprised yelp when George would follow her out just to startle her. Sometimes the king wandered onto  the balcony, hoping to see yet another painting of the roses in the garden. He saw nothing but the occasional dead leaves that had blown onto the platform.

George knew he had to do something. It would have pained Charlotte to see the two of them apart like they were. She couldn't stand when George and Samuel fought, and would nearly break down into tears when she heard them arguing. A side effect of her early childhood. 

George walked down the hallway, following the course in which he knew would lead him to Samuel. He was always in  the garden, often sitting so still that butterflies would land on his hands and shoulders. George knew it delighted his husband, as he was always drawing butterflies in his notebooks and on his parchement.

At least, he used to. 

George threw open the door to the extensive gardens and hurried down the stone path. 

Samuel sat on a small stone bench near the rosebushes, staring off into space. George stopped, just out of Samuels sight. Was this a good descision? He shook his head. He had to do this.

Not for Charlotte, not for anybody else, he had to do it for him and Samuel.

"Sammy" he said quietly. Samuel looked up and smiled. His eyelashes  were wet with tears, as they almost always were, George sat en t to him and wiped his eyes, holding his face and kissing his forehead.

"Sammy, I've been thinking..."  George trailed off. He couldn't get his sentence out. What would he say anyway? They should spend more time together? Samuel looked at him fondly and huffed a laugh. 

"You said that when you proposed." Samuel said fondly, staring back at the roses. George blinked and blushed lightly.

"I... I suppose I did" George replied. Samuenlaughed and leaned on George's shoulder.

"You and Charlotte never were good with intimate descisions. She didn't even know how to ask me if I would marry her off. The fact she even thought that shocked me, seeing our relationship is what it is." He continued. George looked at him.

"What is it?" He questioned. Samuel didn't look at him.

"I'm from Italy, you're of royal blood. Different countries, that kind of thing." George sighed in relief. "You remind me so much of her" 

George nodded, letting his head fall back onto Samuels. 

"She would want us to happy, you know. Spend more time together" George said. Samuel nodded slowly.

"She would, wouldn't she?" George looked down at Samuel. What in the hell did that mean? "I think that perhaps it's time your nephew, George, takes up a position, don't you? He's rather intelligent, reminds me of you when you were young" Samuel continued slowly. George nodded. Even if it should have seemed preposterous to him, but he was tired. He was about fifty-two, Samuel being fifty. 

"I suppose. He has two children now, his poor wife has passed on. I haven't met them,  it they seem lovely." Samuel smiled a little wider.

"I'd like to meet them. Tell him to bring them with him." George nodded and smiled lightly.

"It's a little too quiet in the palace."