"I thought I said not to cause any trouble, my dear." George chimes, playing with something in his vest pocket for a moment and I bite the inside of my cheek.
"Your majesty, just because we made it to England doesn't mean I'm giving up." My gaze fal...
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(This is what you're wearing.)
~~~ September 26, 1777 ~~~
° ° °
Follow the orders of your king... You would take great care in following the orders of your king.
A whisper-breaking sigh was almost heard over the clicking of heels - the clicking of boots - the reminder of those who followed much to my dismay.
To me, what had transpired the night before seemed childish - a calmly played out temperament between colliding sides and opposing views. But that was just it. I knew he didn't see it that way - I knew in the royal's mind he thought my request was simple-minded, a foolish thing to ask in my newly required, upcoming position.
Another point reminding me now that I didn't belong in this high classed world.
My mind pinches with a less than pleasent wave of pressing thoughts...my head ached in its silent, muddied 'glares' towards the polished floor and another scowl was sent towards my blurred reflection.
'Why didn't you stand up for yourself?'
But I did...didn't I?
'Why didn't you press on- show him and explain?'
But how do you? How do you get through to someone who has lived a vastly different life to yours? Who knows how it works miles better than you?
I silence my frustration, shifting my gaze to the elegance of the intricately detailed hallway. The soft white of the walls. The mixing hues of marble and trim dancing along the space.
I didn't blame the royal. Not mostly. I didn't want to blame him for doing what he thought was safe...however, it still had yet to wash away my irritated state.
We were somewhere in the eastern part of the castle - having passed the doors leading to the terrace not too long ago - and even with the highly kept hallway, I couldn't find a worthwhile distraction.
Another sigh and I find myself running a hand through my hair, messing with the loose bun of neatly done curls for no other reason than finding something to occupy my mind.
My frame passes a door - my eyes catching a glimpse of one of the more simple rooms in the castle. In my assumptions it was nothing more than a spare drawing room - a room to rid of boredom in last case scenarios.
But I wasn't that desperate.
I let my gaze lazily draw itself over the wall. My pace was slow, dragging along in defeat and buying unnecessary time. My eyes trail up the threshold of a nearby door - standing a few feet away - and my frame lulls to stand before it, eyeing the potential contents held within and before I could even process it, an idea clicked in my head.
