Infatuation (King George III xreader)

~61~ Hues of white

*Edited: Proofreading.*
Word count: 4537

~~~ November 22, 1777 ~~~

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'Last night's festivities were a combination of calm choas, and unfocused actions, conversations—holding many emotions, attitudes, and characters from both myself and the many guests that had attended.

It was something I found joyful, yet crazy—in a gracefully coated way that had kept me occupied the entire night.

As of writing this, my feet still hurt; my ankles and heels sore from the many hours of standing and dancing.

Two things were made clear to me last night...

Royal balls and high class banquets were lively, extravagant—nothing like the small town parties, get togethers, and 'balls' we'd have back in New York around the holidays.

And to be honest...even though I enjoyed myself, I prefer the smaller parties back home.

But that may be my lack of social prowess making most of that decision.

The former queen had also made it very clear to me, that she didn't trust me...though, I didn't blame her, I don't exactly trust myself either.

George has both shown and told me that ruling takes a lot...of time, effort, knowledge, and experience—things small town people like myself haven't seen on a scale as big as being the ruler of countries and kingdoms.

A baker such as myself, would need a lot of work to polish out my rough edges and understandings of...well everything it takes to rule.

She doesn't want me tearing generations of hard work down‐'

A soft knock reverberates from my bedroom door, telling me of someone's presence and I let my gaze shift from the neatly written words and scrawled down thoughts.

"C-come in." I call out and it wasn't more than a few moments later that the door opened, Samuel walking in with gentle smile.

"Good morning, your highness." He greets kindly, shutting the door behind his frame and I force a small smile - trying to cast away my nerves.

"And to you." I respond, shutting the journal I oh so cherished before I sit up more and place it on my lap.
"Is it time to go?" I ask as the male's hand falls away from the handle and his gaze flicks over to mine.

His expression was gentle and open - though one could see he seemed nervous, even if it was just a little.

"Just about, the carriage is being prepared. His majesty was finishing up with a few things, but he'll be up soon." He says, fixing his attire and I couldn't help but nod before my gaze falls to the small journal.

My breathing was light, trying its best to calm the thoughts that tied small knots across my mind.

"Is everything ok?" The male's voice chimes and I tap the edge of the book a few times.

If I was honest with myself I was probably as nervous as the male who stood only a few feet away, his curious yet careful gaze watching each small detail with an air of ease.

I felt stuck, trapped in some sort of emotional limbo and my feelings for many things were struggled - the memories and thoughts pulling me in both positive and negative directions from the many small moments that linked together like some story that played over and over again in my mind.

I couldn't explain it.

Any of it.

The actions I had made up to this point - some more confusing than others and I had convinced myself it was just because I was being kind hearted.