ikigai (kingbury)

'A Message From The King'

Trotting through the cobblestone alleyways of London, a messenger for the king was on a mission, riding a tan horse. Finally making it to the main streets, he got off the horse he had been riding, hooking it to a hitching post near the intersection, and stepped onto a large, box-like stage in the middle of the street, calling the attention of everyone by bellowing: "Hear ye! Hear ye, a decree from the King on this good Twenty-Eighth of November! King George III of Great Britain would like to request an audience to a.." he squinted, "..a 'Samuel Seabury'! If you are him, step henceforth. If you know of the location of this man, step henceforth!"

*************

Samuel Seabury, a loyalist visiting his family in London for the Christmastime holiday, was a simple Bishop. Sure, he was well-known in his mother country, but in the colonies? Just your average loyalist, giving his free thoughts on patriotism.

Waking up early that morning to see the rest of his English family sleeping, he decided to take a stroll about town, brushing his hair out a bit, then putting it in a ponytail held by a black ribbon. He put his long, black robes on, and held his Bible close, hoping to walk just to the Church.

Outside the house, though the streets where bustling, it was quiet.

Until the thundering of hooves came on the worn, cobblestone streets. A King's messenger! In his red uniform with brass buttons, he was one to be respected. Tipping his hat, slightly, he called out, reading from a large piece of parchment: "Hear ye! Hear ye, a decree from the King on this good Twenty-Eighth of November! King George III of Great Britain would like to request an audience to a 'Samuel Seabury'! If you are him, step henceforth. If you know of the location of this man, step henceforth!"

He immediately was paying closer attention when Samuel heard his own name. An audience? From the King? It must be some sort of mistake. His heeled boots clicked against the cobblestone as he called back to the red-uniformed messenger, "I'm Samuel Seabury, your Excellency!"

The messenger looked down on the smaller man. Seabury was a tad shorter than most, but his rank was clear: from his robes, to his scarf, to even the Bible he carried. For a moment, the tall man in the red uniform was dumbfounded and without an answer. He quickly readjusted his hat, then spoke, "Well, come up, come hence!" Seabury walked closer, to the stage, and then to the post where the horse still was. With some help from the tall messenger, he was on the back of the horse, speeding through the streets of the morning London, nearly knocking into a few people due to the messenger's recklessness.

"So, tell me, Father Seabury," for 'Father' was a proper title for a bishop, "tell me how long you will be here, in London? I can tell by your slight Colonies accent you have been there for a while?"

"Yes, I indeed have, sir. It's where I live, at this point in time, and I'm starting to gain the accent of the rebellious ruffians who live there, sadly. I have a question for you: why exactly is the King calling me to an audience, especially this early in the morn?"

The messenger slowed the reins, nearing the palace. "Private business, nothing a person of my rank should know."

Samuel was silently thinking after that. If his own messenger wasn't given the information.. that was just strange.

They were right outside the palace now. The quality of the cobblestone had increased greatly, and was much smoother, though it was covered by a few inches of snow, already. Samuel shakily got off the large horse, dusting his robes off with his hands and following the messenger inside the grand palace. Outside it, roses seemed to be growing everywhere in the gardens. Seabury smiled at the sweet smell they gave, but walked a little faster to see he was falling behind. Lollygagging.

One set of tired guards blocked nearly every entrance the palace had to offer, and he cowered in fright at the sight of them, his nervous green eyes instead turning to the portraits on the walls of Kings, Queens, and all branches of the prestigious English monarchy.

Then there they were.

The King's throne room.

Samuel had never been more jumpy in his life. This King, George III, the one whom he had been speaking out for nearly all his life in the colonies, the one who had ultimate control of everything he touched.. he was meeting that very man.

Right now.

The messenger warily walked inside the throne room, bowing. "Your Highness, presenting Samuel Seabury, Bishop Of the Church Of England, loyalist to Your Everlasting Throne, at your request." He walked away, closing the double-doors behind him. Now, it was just Seabury and his Majesty in the large room. The King's eyes were only on Samuel, his icy blues following his movements.

Samuel clutched the book closely to his chest, and his heels clicked against the marble of the room, echoing on the walls slightly. "Your Majesty, before we begin our discussion, I would like to say how honoured I am to be graced with your presence!" He bowed, lowly, then continued: "I have been called to your presence, and I do hope it's for the 'outbreak', the 'rebellion'. I have many an idea to deal with the ruffians who call your Colony a new country." He bowed once again, his glasses now on the tip of his pointed, freckled nose. He took three steps closer to the silent King, and met eyes with him before looking back down to the floor. 'He isn't of your rank!' he thought to himself, 'He isn't your equal, you can't just look him in the eyes.' He bit his lip, waiting for the King to speak.

George was silent for a few more moments, his eyes shining like crystals in the morning's light. The King got up, off his throne, his height now apparent to Samuel. He was the tallest man Seabury had ever seen, and he was shaking a bit, at his height and his power. His Highness then spoke, his English accent nearly overpowering his smooth, steely voice. "Well, simply brilliant, my Bishop," Seabury noticed the small word choice the King used, blushing at the the fact that he was called his. He did that to everyone, surely! "I've called you here to discuss differing matters, but the subject of the Revolution is always interesting to discuss."

Samuel nodded, meekly, not believing his senses. This was too extraordinarily good to be true. Maybe the good Lord had answered his prayers!

"I have read many of your writings, on that very subject. They are above a standard, above MY STANDARD, so I would like to appoint you to a position of a personal scribe. You may still continue your job as a bishop," he added, as soon as he started to see a look of worry on Samuel's face, "..you'll just be required to stay here, with me, in the Palace. Is that alright?" It was more of a small, rhetorical query for Samuel, knowing he would agree to the terms.

"Oh, oh my heavens! I would love to stay here, it's so lovely. I would have the honour to be your personal scribe. I'll take the job opportunity!" He bowed slightly, and looked back up at his King, a small tinge of blush on his cheeks. Sure, one of the reasons he'd accepted the job was that so he could better help his King fight the fight, and win the war.. but he had a small romantic attraction towards him, as well.

George smiled, a rare and genuine one, looking down at the smaller Bishop, his eyes staring right through Seabury.

"I'm glad you could make it, dear."

************

{a/n}

Wowzers! My first piece of writing on here! Having fun reading Kingbury, because other than a few requests, it's going to be around 91.13 percent of my writing. This series is written for my friend, George (you can find him on Amino here http://aminoapps.com/p/5tjo3p ), because there aren't enough of these out in the world, and I know how much you like that ship. Go follow him! 

Or I will hit you with a teapot-

On another note, I originally posted this to my Amino, and will continue to update it here

Until next time, rabbles~!

Teabury