A Trade For America's Fate

George Washington had lost count of the days since he agreed to King George's terms. In a deal between America and the threatened execution of his friends and allies in Congress, George had offered himself beside the King. Along with his majesty having control of whatever he did, or said. At least in public.

Today was King George's birthday and George was to be wrapped in a collar and dragged by a leash to the British Battle Arena to sit at the King's feet. How humiliating it was to be treated like a dog by the King of England. He was the most popular man in The United States. The American people were practically licking the ground he walked on.

Roars and cheers could be heard from above as spectators could be seen practically shoving each other in walls just to see their majesty as he is seen walking in the arena. It was like a sea
of diversity; There were poor people who, though lucky enough to even be invited, were stationed in the mid-back of the Arena seats. Of course, there were the rich people sitting in the very front in order to get the greatest of views possible. And finally, there were the Negros. Them being barely noticable due to lack of light within the very ends of the row of seats. George even had to squint his eyes in order to make out their faces. How were they even allowed in the arena in the first place, considering almost 95% everyone here being white.

But out of seemingly nowhere, the entire crowd of English citizens began to boo and shout hateful words upon the mere sight of America's most popular General. The rebel's face contorted into a grimace as he kept his sight to the ground. As the King sat down and, for a moment, basked in all of his glory, he ordered two random peasant men to fight one another for his majesty's entertainment.

The sound of manly grunts, clanging of weapons, and screaming could be heard as George chose to ignore the ongoing battle between the two chosen men. He instead sat on his bottom, bringing his hands and knees up to his face, and closed his eyes. He then traveled into the endless temple that is his own mind. The English sun radiated down upon his clothed skin, almost as if it were the eyes of his people themselves. Disapproving of such an action that George brought upon himself.

On his throne, King George III was enthralled with the sight before him. Watching two weak, pathetic rats try and kill each other just to please their superior. He let out a little chuckle as one the peasants lost thier balance and tripped to the ground. "Fuck you, you molly bastard!!" He called out, earning a large cheer from the crowd. The other peasant killed without hesitation before bowing to his Ruler. King George scoffed as his hand pulled on Washington's leash.

A choked gag pulled from the American's throat as he looked up, obviously startled. He couldn't quite read King George's expression. The piercing ocean blue eyes just stared down at it's prey, burning a hole through his soul.

"Well? Does this peasant deserve to live for what he did?" King George used his other hand to point to the corpse of the now deceased peasant. The General's eyes went completely wide.

"How could you carelessly allow another human being to die? Let alone one of your subjects?" George trying to whispered through his slowly arising anger. "I will not make such an inconsiderate decision for you.
Your the one with the crown, anyways... Not. I." George's voice being as cold as steel. He knew he was in absolutely no position to speak in such a way towards the King; considering being tied up like a slave to the King's hand.

King George let out a practical belly laugh as he called for a British guard to kill the remaining man anyway, making George close his eyes shut with disgust. The peasant let out a bloodcurdling shriek as the soldier sunk his sword into the man's heart before saluting his Ruler. King George dismissed the soldier before glaring down at the rebel.