Chapter Text
George may have been mad, but he was not stupid.
He had always been a very observant child; ever since he had come to the realization that the fate of the nation rested on his shoulders. He knew almost all the names of his staff, knew which members of Parliament owed which debts to his family, knew which ladies of the Ton held the most influence over the families.
He also knew that the only man he entrusted his life to was deeply in love with another.
It wasn't hard to figure out, really. Reynolds was the person he spent the most time with in court, and they had grown to read each other well. For as much as he attempted, he could never quite conceal the fierce devotion in his eyes whenever the Queen's man was around. He was softer, somehow. More vulnerable, and George knew something was there.
He lay in bed, his Charlotte by his side. He contemplated the facts as his fingers ran across her shoulders, down her arms.
For as little as he interacted with him, George quite liked Brimsley and what was even more important, Reynolds loved him. He was sure of that.
They had been dancing at the ball thrown in their son's honor. Dancing and laughing as only two who knew each other's hearts could, far away from the crowds where they thought they had not been visible. But George had seen them unintentionally as he attempted to get away for a few moments.
He might have been able to write it off as two extremely close friends, or at the very least two very drunk servants enjoying a break, but no. No, Reynolds' hand had lingered on the small of Brimsley's back too long for it to be an incident, and Brimsley had not pushed it away. He welcomed it. George had seen Reynolds lean in for a kiss and had seen Brimsley grin from ear to ear because of it. It had been the last thing he had seen before promptly turning back to the ball.
George may have been mad, but he knew love. And love could conquer a great many trials.
"What do you think of, my dear?" His Queen asked, shifting so her back was pressed closely to his chest. His arms immediately made space for her, wrapping themselves around her middle when she was situated.
"I am pondering the subject of love." He answered plainly.
"Oh?" She laughed, and the sound brought a sense of warmth and light to their bedroom. He couldn't help but press a kiss to her cheek. "And what brought up said subject?"
George hesitated, if only for a moment.
As King, he knew the sort of change he could enact, what change he and Charlotte had already begun. They had secured titles and land and inheritances for generations to come, Lady Danbury and her son had been proof of that. They had broken down a barrier that seemed impossible with their marriage. He just wasn't sure if the Ton, if England, could ohandle more change.
And he wasn't sure if it was his place to expose his friend.
Charlotte seemed to notice his discomfort, because a reassuring hand was on his arm, her beautiful face looking up at him. "Whatever it is, you can tell me, George."
His hand began to tremble ever so slightly, but he forced himself to focus on his wife's hand, on her steady heartbeat. He forced himself to breathe.
"I was thinking of a person I know who's in love, yet cannot marry."
"Is the issue a distinction in class? Or is this person already married?'
He hummed in disagreement, letting himself feel content in the fact that his Charlotte did not pass judgment. Not here. Not now.
"No, that is not the issue. It's rather that this person is man... who is in love with another man."
The moment the words were out, George could sense a tension in the room that had not been there before. Charlotte peered up at him, confused, before extracting herself from his arms. George pushed himself onto his elbows as she sat up, fully looking at him.
"Two men romantically involved? I mean, is that even -- even possible?"
He thought back to his friend, to the smile on his face as he twirled Brimsley around when they thought no one was looking.
"Yes, Charlotte, it is."
Charlotte did not say anything until she had gathered her thoughts. Perhaps she could tell that this was something important, more important than words could truly convey.
"I see. I just, I did not realize men in Britain could do that. It is not done back in--"
"They cannot," He interrupted softly, feeling a sorrow fall onto his face. "This friend is hiding, scared of what will happen if his courtship is discovered."
"Courtship? I thought you said they could not marry."
He wondered how long Reynolds had been in a relationship, but he realized it didn't truly matter. George had been in love with Charlotte from the first glance, their love couldn't be measured in time. Perhaps it was the same for them.
"It is a courtship in every way that matters. If they could get married, I am sure they would."
The two sat in silence for a few moments, letting the words sink in. George had known Reynolds for a long time, since they were both boys really. They had grown together, been close in a way he couldn't be with the other staff. George was the King of the United Kingdom, yet he felt incredibly useless. What good was he if he could not help all of his subjects?
"What is stopping them from marrying?"
The simplicity of the question jolted George out of his head, looking up at his Queen. Perhaps he just didn't hear her correctly.
"What?"
Charlotte was looking at him intently, furrowed brows showing how serious she was.
"What is to stop them from marrying?"
George looked up at her, mouth dropping a bit in shock.
"I -- I don't-- it's just not done, love. There's no precedent for it."
"There was no precedent for us, either."
She was raising an eyebrow, challenging him. He wondered if he knew what he was getting into.
"There will be strong objections from the church, the Archibishop alone will refuse."
But even as he said it, the argument sounded hollow to his ears. He was the Head of the Church of England and as such, had the final say on the views of the church. By the way Charlotte still had her eyebrow raised, she did not place much into the excuse either. A plan was already formulating in his mind, but even then, there was still another obstacle.
"Parliament won't stand for it."
Even if Charlotte didn't, George knew exactly what things would be said if he brought this before Parliament. The Lords were hostile to those in their own circle, and downright cruel to those not. Unimaginably cruel words would be used, and even then, George was not sure he could speak before Parliament if he wanted to.
Before he could delve into his thoughts much further, Charlotte was once again holding his hand. She was stunning in the morning light, a complete vision in her nightgown, and George was enraptured by her. How ever did he get so lucky?
"Whatever you decide to stand for, I will be with you every step of the way."
He smiled at his wife, pressing a kiss to her lips, letting himself linger there.
"Well, I suppose we should get up. We'll need to make plans if we're going through with this."
Having been in His Majesty's service since the age of 16, Reynolds believed he could pinpoint his King's thoughts before he even made them. He was more predictable than he thought, or Reynolds was an extremely strong judge of character.
But even Reynolds could not have anticipated the way George would throw the entire country in an uproar.
His Majesty had spoken so plainly, said his plan so nonchalantly that the room had been quiet for a few moments before exploding in anger. The staff had even broken their composure, several eyes finding each other's and mouths dropping agape.
"This will cause nothing but outrage!" One of the Lords shouts, and several more agree, shouting to the point where they are drowning out His Majesty. They're either drowning his voice out, or it is such a shock to his system that Reynolds loses all his senses.
He regains them though when a flash of silk strides into the room with Brimsley right behind her. It is only then that the shouts are quieted, both out of respect for the monarch and out of audacity that a woman would enter a gentleman's meeting with so little reserve.
His Majesty is not surprised, it seems. He smiles at Her Majesty, makes his way over to her and takes her hand. As Reynolds is obligated to be five steps behind, his feet are forced to give way, bringing him so closely to the man he desperately wants and can't have.
"His Majesty and I stand firm on this issue," Her Majesty says, voice ringing out clearly. She has only been a sovereign for a 12-month, yet Reynolds has never seen a person more regal. Her tone held no place for contempt, no patience for disagreements. "The option of matrimony will be available to all of our subjects. He is the Head of the Churh of England. He has decided. Long Live the King."
The shocked and livid utterances of "Long Live the King" fell on deaf ears as he and Brimsley finally locked eyes.
Did that truly just happen? Brimsley's wide and shocked eyes seemed to say.
Yes. I believe so.
Reynolds wants to speak, wants to speak about the opportunity that has now been placed at his feet when the realization hits him.
Had George and Charlotte done this... for them? Reynolds had thought he had kept his proclivities hidden, thought his discretion kept him and Brimsley safe. Yet no member of the ton would come to the King and Queen regarding such a thing, no one would dare.
The question must have hit Brimsley at the same moment, because besides the shock in his eyes was a note of fear. Reynolds longed to comfort him, to rush to his side and hold onto his hand as he knew Charlotte did to George. But he could not. All they could do was fall in place behind their Majesties as they left, leaving the Lords of Parliament to themselves and their anger.
The carriages were called, and Reynolds moved to open one for His Majesty and himself when George spoke.
"As the heir is safely at Buckingham House, there is nothing to prevent my wife and I from sharing a carriage, is there Reynolds?"
There was. On all fronts, the King and Queen should never be permitted to ride a carriage together for the rest of their lives. But the look on Her Majesty's face was all but daring him to object, so he shook his head no. Words were not yet a feasible task to him.
"Well, there is no reason to leave a carriage empty." The Queen continued, turning to face Brimsley. "See that it is safely brought to Buckingham House, yes?"
Without another word, George led Charlotte into the carriage and they were off. Leaving Reynolds and Brimsley alone, with the footmen who were pointedly avoiding their gaze. Not knowing what else to do, Reynolds unlatched the door and climbed in. Brimsley followed a few moments later.
The second the door closed behind them, Brimsley fell forward and Reynolds caught him.
"What has just happened?" Brimsley asked, though his voice was muffled as Reynolds was clutching him so tightly. The power of speech had not yet been recovered and he spent the first few minutes of their shared carriage ride attempting to calm his erractly beating heart.
"I -- I think His Majesty knows about us."
Brimsley seemed confused, staring out of the glass and into the night sky. "It makes no sense. Why would he change anything for us? There's no chance of that."
But he knew he was wrong. Brimsley didn't spend time with George, didn't know him as intimately and personally as Reynolds did.
"It is out of turn, but I mean this: he sees me as a friend, has told me as much. Perhaps he is... doing a friend a favor."
It had been years ago, when George had been all but 15, and Reynolds had had to shut him down.
"We cannot be friends, Your Highness. Would be most improper."
George hadn't cared, never took that advice into consideration. He always asked after him, always seemed genuinely curious in the reply. He attempted to not go out on colder days as he knew that he was ill-disposed to them, and refrained from having felines in the Palace as to his allergy to them. George was the King, but he was also a friend.
And a very good one, if the possibility in front of him was to be believed.
"He just made an irreversible stance in front of several Parliament members. He is lucky no more than them witnessed it."
This brought Reynolds up short, lessening his grip on his lover. He leaned back some in his seat, finding Brimsleys eye.
"Do - do you want him to take it back?"
Brimsley didn't seem to know what the answer was himself. He looked worried and confused, more nerves than anything else.
"I do not know."
The words should infuriate him. The words should make his temper rear its head, should make him want to fight with Brimsley as he so often does. They are at their best when fighting, or perhaps at their best when they are apologizing after the fact. Instead, he takes Brimsley's hands into his own.
"Would you like to know what I want?"
Brimsley hesitates slightly before nodding.
"I wish to marry you."
The words come out sooner than he had ever intended them to, but they were no less sincere. Brimsley made a sound like a wounded animal and made to pull his hands away, but Reynolds did not let him.
"I wish to marry you because I have already been courting you. I wish to wake up in the same bed as you, to spend more than twenty minutes at a time with you. I wish to hold your hand when I am able to."
Brimsley's mouth opened and closed several times, seemingly lost for words.
"I wish to marry you. Please. If His Majesty truly goes through with this... marry me."
For one truly, God-awful moment, he wondered if Brimsley was going to refuse him. A flash of panic coursed through him, but it did not last because Brimsley smiled.
He smiled at him, which turned into a beautiful laugh that he could not get enough of.
"Yes, you daft fool, I would marry you in an instant."
Reynolds laughs with him and does a glance to see where exactly they are. He notes that they are still a good 15 minutes from Buckingham House and pulls Brimsley towards him.
The kiss they share is sweet, slow and tender, not at all like the kisses they've previously shared. There is no rush, no wondering if they have time.
If all goes well, they will have all the time they need.