The Blinders have no idea what kind of powerfull person they have walking amongst them. Nicholas 'Nicky' is soon to be King of England. But is he able to keep his secret or will the Shelby's find out who he truely is?
(Tommy's P.O.V.) The large imposing black and gold gate was opened for me and I put the car in gear to go through. I drive up over the ground. Through it was a 3 mile road connecting the grounds to a castle. The park, still ridged with the lines of vanished hedges, stretched around, giving light and air and pasture to fine English bred racehorses and Alderney cows. Beyong it trees began, most likely planted years and years ago. I had arrived in the afternoon, on time. Reynolds had met with me waiting politely as I parked my car. Before guiding me through to the large palace. Tea, very bitter, was waiting for me and the interviewer of the BHA. A gesture before we would meet with the King. I picked up the tea cup and looked around the room. People stood about, all looking distinguished or there for some distinguised reason. My eyes landed on the door that stood open to the long decorated hallway. I could hear some people talking, before they walked past. The King, Reynolds and a guy I didn't recognize. I could tell they where discussing some things as they stood by the door for a different room. By the look on Nick's face, I could tell he wanted to leave this conversation, but he remained listening to the unfamiliar man. Nick became so uninterested that he grabbed a jold of the doorknob and leaned towards the door, indicating he was done with the conversation. A subtle hint, the bald man did not notice. And thus Reynolds had to intervene.
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Stepping forward, slightly inbetween Nicholas and the man, holding a hand up. Before telling the guy something. To which he nodded and courtsied before taking his leave. Nick turned to Reynolds, but his eyes landed on me for a brief second as he did so. He gulped before turning to Reynolds completely, nodding to him, then going inside the office. Not long later, Reynolds approached both me and the interviewer and told us to follow him to the room where Nick dissapeared into. Reynolds stepped aside to show us to the King. Who once again stood looking out the window, deep in thought, as his eyes glanced over the magnificent horizon of his 2200 hectares property. "Sir" Reynolds greeted, gaining Nick's attention, "Mr Thomas Shelby and Mr Gallagher a journalist from the BHA". I watched as Nick nodded but didn't turn around to face us. Reynolds looked at us and motioned to a table with 3 seats "take a seat". We did so while Reynolds made his way to stand in his usual spot. Ready to be of service to his King. The King turned around and strolled over, with his hands in his pockets before taking a seat beside me. I could tell from his posture that there was something different about him. But I couldn't place it. He just looked emotionless, empty of anything. Nick glanced between me and Mr Gallagher "are you going to ask your questions, Mr Gallagher, or are you going to waste both mine and Mr Shelby's time?" Nick asked, a hint of annoyence lingering in his voice. "Oh, my apologies" Gallagher said basically shooting up in his chair and rapidly looked at his notebook for his questions, "ah, here we are. Yes, uhm" he continued and cleared his throat, "Um... So, Your Majesty, traditionally in this country, print journalists take no interest in the, er, the private lives of monarchs". "Private lives?" Nick asked raising his eyebrows, "But in these modern times, journalists are beginning to... Well, that is to say, yes, um... Readers are beginning to say... want to know more about the King's who represent them". "Of course" Nicky answered nodding his head. "In these modern times. Whereas before it would have been seen as ungentlemanly to, er, to ask a public figure questions about personal matters or business affairs...". "Jesus, what is your question, Mr Gallagher?" Nick said beginning to become uninterested. "The question I have for you, Sir, is this. Was your decision to co-own a horse with Mr Shelby a gradual thing or... a vice of the greek?". I carefully looked at Nick, wanting to see how he reacts to this statement of Greek love. Greek love is a term originally used by classicists to describe the primarily homoerotic customs, practices, and attitudes of the ancient Greeks. Nick glared at him with a scolding look in his eyes, how dare you accuse the King of being gay. Was basically spoken through the harshness. It took me a bit by suprise, to be honest, I had known Nick to never really care if someone accused him of being gay. But now, it was almost as if he was going angry. "You know, interesting psychological fact, people tend to accuse others of the things they are afraid of". Nick took a few second to wait, enlisting fear into Frank Gallagher, after now accusing him of being gay, "but I'm sure that's not the case here". Again he waited, watching Frank like a hawk, trying to see more weakness in the man. "Is it? Or do you have something to tell me?". "I-I" Frank began stumbling to find the right words. Nick ignored his try and continued "When I was young, I was always covered in something. Mud, Jam, failure. My father would never associate himself with something dirty". Nick was composed as he talked, but held a very threatening tone in his voice, "but now I am older, there is no dirt on me. But I did ask Reynolds to carry out some research to see how clean you are, Mr Gallagher". Nick held his hand out for Reynolds, who handed him a paper filled with informatiom regarding Mr Gallagher. Thanking his King's man, Nick looked down and began to read, making Frank gulp and nearly shrink in his chair "Ah, Frank Gallagher. Yes. Journalist. Unmarried. An apartment in Maida Vale. An apartment opposite the underground station. Unmarried is underlined". Eyes glanced up from the paper, curious to see the reaction. "Mr Gallagher enjoys walks in the park. Sometimes alone. Sometimes not alone. Sometimes with other men" Nick looked up and leaned back, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "sometimes with other men". Frank gulped as the King stared at him with cold eyes. The man nearly lost the ability to breath as the King stared him down. Frank had nothing against the King, yet Nick had everything against him. "I'm old fashioned, Frank. I believe private lives should remain just that - private" it was a warning for him not to pry further into Nick's private life. I always wondered what would happen to a King if he went out of fashion. He would be torn from his pedestal, that is inevitable. They'll love him until they know he's done. Then it's of with his head. It feels a little medievel if you ask me. But Nick was nowhere near of going out of fashion, he made that clear as he basically made the journalist kiss his ring.
After the meeting with the arrogant journalist. I was left alone with the King. He stood looking gloomily at big beautifull painting. "It served him right" I tell him, bringing up the conversation between him and Gallagher. How Nick out him in his place, reminding Frank to never challenge a King to reveal his private affairs. Nick gives me a side eye but speaks none the less, "as long as they talk of the unspeakable vice of the Greek, they can't expect fairplay. They wouldn’t attempt, wouldn’t want to attempt to understand that a man can feel the same for a man, as a woman can feel to her fiancé. Only far more deeply, body and soul, no starved medievalism of course, only a particular harmony of body and soul that I don't think women have even guessed. But you know". He finished with a sigh. That was the Nick I knew, not the one who spoke earlier. Almost stating how wrong homosexuals are. "When did you first care about me?" I questioned him, curious to it. He had asked me while we still slept together, but I had never asked it. He scoffed and shook his head "don't ask me". Nick looked at me and it looked like he was pleading me not to ask him. As if it physically hurt him to bring back the memory. Nick turned back to look at the painted landscape before softly speaking "Well, it was your beauty". "My what?". "Beauty... I used to admire that man with the icy blue eyes the most. I think you’re beautiful, the only beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I love your voice and everything to do with you, down to your clothes or the room you are sitting in. I adored you". Adored, past tense. I frowned as he said it like that, something changed. I heard someone walk into the painting hall and immediatly Nick changed subject, developing it into an interest. "Look at that painting, for instance, I love it because, like the painter himself, I love the subject, I don't judge it with eyes of the normal man" Nick said, while keeping a weary eye to the person behind us, "There seem two roads for arriving at Beauty – one is in common, and all the world has reached Michelangelo by it, but the other is private to me and a few more. We come to him by both roads. On the other hand Greuze – his subject matter repels me. I can only get to him down one road. The rest of the world finds two". I did not interrupt: it was all charming nonsense to him, actually, it was more seeming as a cover up. I glanced briefly over my shoulder to look at the man - Lord Chamberlain. One of the members of the Home Office. "These private roads are perhaps a mistake" concluded Nick, watching Lord Chamberlain, as if to see he didn't dissapproave of anything the King had said. "But as long as the human figure is painted they will be taken. Landscape is the only safe subject". The sound of hands clapping came from behind us. Both of us turning to face the Lord "well said, your Majesty". Beside me it seemed Nick was nearly shivering where he stood. How could he change from a steong powerfull man, to one that looked weak and fragile in a matter of seconds? I turned to Chamberlain, eyeing him suspiciously. "My apologies for interupting this conversation, but I must remind you, that you have a meeting to attend to". Chamberlain gave me a harsh look, dissapproaving of me being here, before turning back to Nicholas. I didn't expect Nick to agree, but there he went. Obeying like the common lap dog. Of to God knows where, without even saying a proper goodbye. As if somethong else has consumed his mind that made him forget his mannerism that he was so well known for. "Mr Shelby" the voice of Chaimberlain spoke loudly, gaining my attention away from the King, "I advice you to leave the property". It came out as an order. "You are not good for his Majesty's well being and mental state".
