Love Conquers All (Kingsbury One-Shots)

The Meeting

Samuel didn't remember ever shaking so bad in his life. Even when being chased around by those traitorous rabbles, he wasn't quite as terrified as now, surrounded by guards glaring at him silently. He eyed the mahogany doors once again, not daring to knock - a muffled conversation could be heard, although the words faded and merged into one giant stream of sounds, along with the bishop's thumping heart and panicked panting.

He didn't bother trying to calm himself, knowing already he would fail. Wasn't it all he could do, after all? Just one big disappointment.

Seabury didn't have much to do with the King, which he was partly grateful for; it was an intimidating and nerve-wracking persona, and Samuel preferred to admire him from afar than to humiliate himself on his own two eyes. They did meet once, although, when he was summoned here to Windsor Castle on a conference for bishops with His Majesty: he was told to calm the nervous atmosphere in the colonies, and he was told His Excellency had his faith in him.

And God knows, he tried! But the thought he let the King himself down gripped his throat tight, ever since he boarded the ship back to England, bruised and publicly humiliated. It wouldn't let him sleep, nor even think about what he would tell the guards, maids and finally his dear monarch. What kind of punishment would he face? Could he be arrested? He was sure the King wouldn't let him slide.

- Mister Seabury. - he flinched, zoning back in at the sound of his name. He shot a frightened glance at the well-dressed man, holding the door open for him. Behind them was his doom, he was sure of it. Even though, hurried by the impatient gaze of that elegant gentleman, he didn't hesitate before stepping inside of the chamber. The doors closed behind him with an ominous thump.

- Mister Seabury. - His Majesty's velvety voice caused a shiver to run down Samuel's spine. He swallowed hard and on stiff legs, he kneeled down, not daring to raise his gaze again. He could feel the King's presence filling the room, nearly corporeal, and paralyzing, considering the fact he must be furious.

Still frozen on his knees, Seabury heard footsteps in his direction and soon two shiny boots appeared before him. He finally snapped his head up and saw a malicious smirk. George gestured him to get up, and the poor bishop jumped up so quickly he stumbled backwards, to the nobleman's amusement. With a small chuckle, he turned back to the desk placed in the back of the room, on a small pedestal. He sat down slowly, locking his eyes on the shorter man with an odd emotion Samuel couldn't decipher.

- Sit, my dear. - the smirk crawled off of his lips, and his voice was now tinted with venomous affection. Seabury did as he was told, took a place at the chair on the other side of the table, avoiding eye contact. He felt his lips go dry and hands get sweaty and could swear his heart stopped beating for a moment.

- I'm sure you know what you have been called in here for. - George leaned in, resting his chin on his hand, a playful hint of a smile on his face again. Samuel nodded anxiously, fearing his voice might fail him. - I gave you an order, an easy job, a task you apparently couldn't do right. I put my trust in you and you disappointed me greatly.

The bishop curled up on the chair, feeling the cold fury behind calm words. The King continued, seeming to be only more angered by Seabury's silence.

- You just couldn't bring those lackeys to senses, could you? That's what I get for trusting good-for-nothing fools! You had a chance to finally do something significant in your miserable life, but you ruined it, just like everything you ever touch! - His Majesty banged his fists on the desk, causing a yelp to escape the smaller man's lips. The King was enraged, his eyes were widened and teeth bared.
Rumors said their monarch was insane, and though it was continuously denied by men close to the Crown, everyone in the royal palace had to admit it was indeed true. King George was truly terrifying in his "episodes", when he screamed and growled, sobbed sorrowfully and laughed hysterically, when he was able to murder in cold blood just for the twisted pleasure of the act.
- You pathetic flea! You rascal, scoundrel! Untutored churl! - he got up the desk suddenly and jumped towards Samuel with a wild glow in his eyes, which had him gasp in terror and jump backwards. - You betrayed me, you ruined everything! It's all your bloody fault, you fiend of hell!
With every word the King was closer and with every step he took Seabury backed away and bent in horror more, when suddenly his back hit the wall and there was no escape.
George already took a breath preparing for another series of screams, when suddenly he froze. He frowned and eyed the bishop, as if he has never seen him before in his life. After all the noise he caused silence was nearly deafening, as he kept his gaze locked on Samuel, curled and backed up against the wall, tears marking his fearful face.
- I apologise, my liege. - the poor man whispered, feeling nothing but guilt and shame. He was now staring directly into His Majesty's blue eyes, and couldn't help but admire their icy shade, so rarely found.
Before he would get flooded by another wave of panic over how the King might punish him, he felt lips on his own, soft and warm.
The kiss was so sudden Seabury squealed in surprise, and gasped for breath when George pulled away with a smirk on his face.
- My king-! - Samuel cried, blinking in shock, when he looked up at him in search of an answer, instead being met with a hand stroking his cheek, already red and hot. He huffed helplessly.
The taller man chuckled softly and leaned in close, his lips touching the bishop's ear, and whispered.
- Samuel, my darling, you've angered me greatly, but I do hope you learned your lesson and won't ever dissapoint me again.
A shiver ran down Samuel's spine once again, but it wasn't out of fear this time.
- Absolutely, sire-! - he spat out, a fluster of heart at the purr in his ear. The King pulled back away and smiled fondly at his confused little loyalist.
- You will be staying here at the palace for a period of time, and you shall be escorted to your room immediately. I will be awaiting you in my chambers at tea time. You may leave. - he stroked his cheek once more and turned around to return to his business, interrupted by Seabury's arrival. Seabury himself stood frozen for a few more seconds, before bowing clumsily and hurrying out the giant doors, still processing the incredibly odd situation that just took place.
- This way, Mister Seabury. - the same gentleman who opened the door for him before gestured to a corridor on the right, seeming personally offended by being assigned to guide an ordinary bishop around.
The walk to his chamber was one of dreadful silence that Samuel wasn't about to break. He felt light like a feather, but at the same time every step seemed to be an exasperating task. Upon his arrival at the room he was already in quite a miserable state, the incident slowly sinking in.
- I was kissed by the King. - he thought to himself in shock, watching the proud gentleman leave distastefully. - No, this simply could not have happened.
He sat down by the desk he found was prepared for him, a bottle of ink and a quill neatly set down, next to a fresh scroll of parchment.
- Does His Majesty fancy me? - a stupid and hesitant thought ran through his mind, and he quickly shoved it away with dismay. - No, such madness! Truly, I know better than this.
But the memory of the King's lips on his was still burning, and the look of the King's eyes was still stuck in his head. His body was still oddly weightless, at the same time being heavy like a sack of rocks. To say Samuel was afraid was too little.
His troubled frown lit up with relief, as he remembered George's words, that they were to meet at tea time. Surely everything would be explained at tea time!
The young Bishop didn't want to spare another thought on this restless matter, his glance trailing off to the bed instead - only now did the adrenaline drain from his veins and his body collapsed, his vision getting blurred with foggy exhaustion. He made his way to the bed, lying down contently. Before he was swept away into the black embrace of sleep, his now tangled and chaotic thoughts fused into one, bright and clear.
Everything will be explained at tea time.