Infatuation (King George III xreader)

~1~ Preporations

*Edited: 1-2-22*
Word count: 3930

The war had gone on for what felt like forever; the days, weeks, and months blurring together into years that moved by at a snails pace.
For years people clung onto whatever shred of hope they could find, trying to look for and keep the small, happy moments in mind while able bodied fathers, husbands, sons and brothers of an adult age went to fight the opposing side, each wearing their uniforms of deep, patriotic blue and light beige.

As the worry-filled, anxiety inducing days went by, more and more people were finding it harder to hold onto the joyful moments - starting to give up that hope of victory when more and more of our soldiers died, or came back heavily injured in a fight that we would seemingly never win.

But one day General George Washington surprised everyone when he stated that we were to sign a peace treaty with England, to stop the bloodshed from both sides, end the war between our countries, and come to a compromise.

Some people were happy, relieved to finally be through with the war.

Others were outraged that we were giving in, surrendering to the enemy after having come so far.

But Washington said it would be for the best.

That we wouldn't lose anymore of our people. That the terror would end.

~~~ July 26, 1777 ~~~

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The air was sweet, filled the scent of fresh vanilla, cut up apples, and hot bread - each coating the kitchen with ease much like the warmth that still lingered on my dusty red cheeks and towel covered hands.

The tray of freshly baked sugar cookies is set down on the counter, and as I blow the stray strands of hair away from my face I couldn't help but smile - feeling rather pleased with my handy work.

I then bunch up the two small towels that had once shielded my hands before setting them down and turning on my heel, focusing on a new task as I come face-to-face with my mother's oldest friend, and my boss.

Her long black hair fell down her back in loose, unkempt curls, a few strands framing her face while the back half was tied up in a thin, low hanging ponytail held together with a simple, white hued ribbon.
Her deep, black-brown eyes never waivered, staring back at me with an unamused and stern expression while her arms were crossed over her waist and her brow sat raised - each helping to accompany her current emotion along with her tall figure and subtle curves.
Everything about her held an air of strong compassion, a gentle touch underneath the stone cold outside of the woman.

"Hello Barbara." I smile in a simple greeting, going to walk by her - yet she blocks my path as she sighs and my eyes flick back to hers with a look of curiosity.

"I remember telling you to take a break." She says in a flat tone, and the shy smile remains on my face.

"I'm aware, but we need to be prepared." I respond, moving passed the older woman to another counter close by and grabbing a spatula from a large jar on its surface.

"You've been in here since this morning, not to mention every day for the past week." She chimes in a matter of fact tone and I chuckle softly, tilting my head back just enough to look at the wall in front of me and the cabinets that adorned it.

"And I'll be finished by tonight if I hurry. Please don't act like this is a chore for me; I've been baking ever since you taught me how- you know, the proper way."
I pause my rambling, thinking for a moment before I turn to face the woman and continue, "How long ago was that? I was twelve, correct?" I question as if trying to change the subject and Barbara sighs, her hands falling to her sides as a hint of a smile tugs at her lips.