Revolution (Hamilton)

Dangerous love

1778

''Come along, my red rose'' George sings, pulling me along down a big hall. He has never acted so unkinglike even when he is alone with me in my chamber, he rarely let's down his guard. His posture always perfect and his face always a polite mask, only dropping down to scold servants. ''Won't you tell me what my surprise is, my dear King'' I giggle, my red dress flying behind me. While he is like this I can't help but hope that this might let down some more of his guard, the beginning of him accidentally dropping some things about the revolution. So far I have only found out limited information, a bit about the drain on Britain's resources and the threat from other countries across the sea. ''You'll see or rather you will hear it'' he happily replies, bopping my nose. His crown almost falling of his head with all of his enthusiasm. He pulls me into a big room, decorated quite like the others, but with more plants. Hundreds of flower in tens of vases. A big piano wing in the centre, two stools in front of it.

''I already love my surprise'' I observed, not completely lying. I have heard George playing before and he it's quite pleasing for the ear. ''Thank you my dear red rose'' he replies, kissing my hand and walking to the piano. He sits down, his posture perfect as per usual, laying his fingers gently on the keys. He begins playing holding his eyes closed, as his fingers flies over the piano. He seems to really feel the music and it's contagious. I close my eyes to, letting every note resonate in my hand, slowly dancing around in tempo with the music. I almost get startled when I suddenly hear a melodious voice accompany it. I open my eyes to look at the man, his singing just as melodious as his normal voice. The difference between his voice and the piano seem to be dancing, accompanying each other perfectly. When I see him in moments like this, I almost feel like I could fall in love with him. Those thoughts are always quickly expelled out of my mind, as I see him order a beheading or think about my home front. If Alexander met George he would instantly dislike him, probably getting himself beheaded within seconds.

However in this moment it is harder to resist the urge to feel nothing, the music enchanting me and the man who makes it even more. He looks so vulnerable, so sweet, so in the moment that it is poisoning my heart. His voice goes higher, reaching a pitch that I didn't know was possible to reach, without wanting to scratch my ears out. I finally walk to him and sit next to him. Letting my head rest on his shoulder, he freezes up for a second, but then relaxes. Getting lost in the music again, though I despise this man he sure can sing. As his fingers and voice touches the last notes, I almost feel sad, already missing the moment. ''That was wonderful George'' I sigh, lifting my head of his shoulder.

''You called me George'' he laughs, his piercing blue eyes burning into mine. ''Oh I am so sorry my king'' I fretted, raking a hand trough my hair. Shit, did I just fuck this up with one word, I hope not. ''Don't despair my red rose, I like it. Call me George again'' he crowed, putting his hand under my chin. I sigh internally, thank god he didn't take offense to me not using his official title. ''George'' I whisper, my cheeks colouring red for some unknown reason, perhaps it is the look in his eyes. ''Again'' he whispers back, suddenly lifting me up on the piano. I let out a small yelp, putting my arms behind me for support. ''George'' I whisper, feeling his lips on mine milliseconds after the name leave my lips. The sheer force of his lips on mine, almost pushes me back, the only thing keeping me in place are Georges hands on my hips. He moves one hand from my hip to my hair, removing his lips from mine and re attaching them on my neck. Giving the skin a million little butterfly kisses and sucking on the skin in some places, making me fake moan. He moves back to my lips, putting his thumb on them. Staring intently at them, as his finger tickles my lips.

''Beautiful'' he whispers, giving me a slow French kiss. After he dis attaches our lips he leans his forehead against mine. Alexanders face flashes trough my brain, painting myself a mental picture of us behind the tent. ''Do you like your song'' he asks, sitting back down on the stool. ''I absolutely love it, my dear king'' I answer, slowly letting myself slide of the black shiny piano. He fake pouts when I speak the last word ''Please call me George when we are alone, my red rose'' he sighs, a whiff of flirty ness suddenly whelming over me, the mental imagine of