💕Queen Charlotte and King George One Shots💕

7: The Ball

Requested by: Kimberly0607

Charlotte POV:

The bustling halls of Buckingham House were rattling with chatter about the approaching ball this weekend, and the announcement that the King shall be in attendance perked up many ears. He doesn't usually like social events, a fact that I find most unsettling because, besides his cold-hearted attitude towards me, he seems all but normal. My lady's maids were flying around me asking what colors I should like to be in the center of the bouquets as well as which composers shall be in attendance. It was all becoming too much to constantly talk about an event that I held very little fondness for.

I was standing atop the perch in my room, stationed in front of my dressing mirror as my ladies tended to the wrinkles and placed jewelry around my neck and in my ears. Everything about my outfit felt heavy. I strained my neck to the right to find some relief when a few hard knocks were heard at the door. I turned around to see who dared intrude on my private time, getting ready for my day and I was greeted by George.

"Charlotte," he said, letting a small smile form on his lips.

"It is not an even day," I said, flat with seriousness. My ladies had stopped tending to my dress, unsure what to do since the King was now in the room and instead they held themselves in shallow curtseys.

"Leave us," George commanded, stepping further into the room, allowing for space between him and the door so the servants were able to pass him. He was not in his formal attire, instead he wore black linen, and dark trousers giving him a rather serious demeanor. The door closed behind him, leaving us alone in a room.

"What is the meaning of this?" I said, annoyed and confused why he would be bothering me as I stepped off the perch I was on and moved a few steps closer to him.

"Forgive me, clearly I have entered at an-nonopportune time," he said, sassiness lingering in the air.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I said, shocked at his composure.

"Nothing, I simply mean I did not intend to make you hostile," he said, and that enraged me.

"I am not hostile," I said calmly, narrowing my eyes and letting him know that I indeed was hostile.

"It does not signify, I am simply here to discuss the matter of the ball tomorrow," he paused and looked for a seat, landing on one that stood on the edge of my bed. He sat down with a sigh and placed his elbow on the arm of the chair and his hand to his temple.

"So, go on then, discuss," I said, waving my hand, prompting him to continue.

"Well I believe we should have three dances-" he said but I cut him off.

"Three is rather brazen, is it not?" I questioned with condensation in my voice.

"We shall do three, that is not up for discussion. I also think it appropriate for you to wear the red dress I had made for you in Germany last month that has just arrived-" I cut him off again.

"What if I do not wish to wear red?" I asked, clearly aggravating him.

He dropped his hand from his temple and used it to push himself up off the chair before walking until he was rather close to me, "Must you be so intolerable? I am simply trying to discuss the manner of protocol."

At that moment, the words he was speaking turned to slurs, and all I could think about was the distance his mouth was from mine. All I could feel was the slight tingle of his body heat, touching mine. All I could see were his eyes raking down to my lips and over my chest as our breaths heaved from arguing. As much as we did not get along, our bodies called for one another.