Infatuation (King George III xreader)

~13~ Unease

*Edited: 2-9-2022*
Word count: 2849

~~~ August 5, 1777 ~~~

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My breathing was light, steady as I lay in a small ball in the bed, my knees tucked up by my chest as the blankets covered my frame closely.
I take a small breath, my chest rising and my brow furrows as the muffled calling of orders and sounds of boots on wood was constant - becoming more clear to my waking mind.

Cracking my (e/c) eyes open I breathe a heavy, tired sigh - feeling groggy as I move to sit up, the silky blankets falling down to pool at my waist.

Sunlight cascaded through the large window, shining its light onto the floor and furniture within the room, making it feel almost cozy.

I glance up with a drowsy expression, a thought coming into my mind while I drown out the soft yelling and take another breath, turning my attention to the window made of tiny, diamond shaped pieces of glass, on the back wall of the room.

Hesitantly I lift the blanket and slide off the bed, rubbing my eyes as I carefully make my way to the window - taking notice of the small, yet giddy feeling that vanished as quickly as it came.
A look of confusion knits my brow as I look out to the shimmering, deep blue water below - watching as it seemingly danced under the light of the bright sun.

My gaze shifts up, looking for any sign that we had docked back in my town, yet all I could see was blurry blue water and sky.

And the lack of close land scared me.

I let my eyes fall to the floor as I hold my breath - stepping back before I lift my gaze up passed the desk and towards the doors at the front of the room.

Surely we would've docked by now — surely we would've made it back to land.

My mind runs rampant with thoughts as my heartbeat picks up and I swallow - my throat dry as I quickly make my way around the desk and almost run over to the elgant, white doors, my feet lightly tapping on the floor with each step.
Grabbing the metal handle I turn it rather quickly before pushing it open and running out a little ways.

My gaze snaps up to the British flag waving high on the center mast - my knees bent inwards ever so slightly as a soft breeze hits my skin with more caution rather than calm.

I inhale - not staying there for too long as I then turn and run up the stairs that led to the back of the ship - and over to the railing.
My (h/c) bangs frame my face as I suddenly halt, my grip on the railing tight as fear paints my expression thoroughly.
I swallow hard - any ounce of serene peace my body one had having long vanished.

The distant landmass sat even farther away - the docks and edge of the town I had grown up in, blurry and indistinguishable aside from grouped together shapes and muted colors of the countryside.

My knees buckle for a moment as I step in place, my left hand running through my hair for a moment as I bite the inside of my cheek - drawing my gaze towards a passing ship, not too far from the back-right of the one I occupied - and my eyes were easily glued to its smaller woodeworked frame.

My right hand falls to the railing, tapping it as boots click behind me.
"H-hey!" I call out, reaching my left high above my head and waving it in a desperate attempt to get the other ship's attention.

Anyone's attention.

"Wait please-"

A large hand covers my mouth tightly, making me gasp - an arm wrapping around my midsection before I get whisked around like a piece of parchment in someones grasp - the large frame of the male I was pressed against making me completely invisible to the other ship's view as I stumble and cry out through his hand, my braided hair falling over my shoulder as I try to pry his firm grip off my mouth.