Chapter Text
George had not seen the doctor for about a week and while he had worried an episode may come on while telling Charlotte everything, it did not. Charlotte had held his hand and he had shared with her that which no one else knew about him. He shared insecurities and fears and the way his head swam. And Charlotte sat with him and accepted all of it without doubt.
She had seen him at his worst - shouting at the night sky - and still she wanted a life with him.
He was lucky to have found a woman he could love that loved him back - there had been so much against them but he felt that Charlotte’s presence in his life would allow room for happiness that had never existed for him before.
And a baby . He and Charlotte were going to be parents and —
A knock sounded at the door to George’s study, pulling George from his reverie and he knew there were few people that it could be. He felt a subtle tremor in his left hand and he took a deep breath to steady himself.
“Yes?” He called, hoping it was a servant looking for him.
The door opened rather abruptly and George was disappointed to see Dr. Monro’s lanky figure appear in the doorway.
George gritted his teeth but tried to be pleasant, nodding his head at the man, “Doctor.”
Dr. Monro had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked at George, the man was bold in the way he observed George. Searching for imperfection in the King was considered treason to many and yet the doctor felt comfortable to do it to the King’s face.
“Boy, what games are you playing at?” The man’s voice came out sharp and cutting. But George would no longer allow this man to have power over him - he was the King and this man in front of him was meant to be helping him, not hurting him.
“Games? I fear I misunderstand.” George tried to keep an aloof look on his face though he was feeling a little nauseated thinking about being in the doctor’s care once again.
“Games!” The doctor shouted at him and George backed away from him just a step.
“You have not been in the chair for over a week and I must say, I fear that all of our progress will be lost. We will have to -” George cut him off.
“No.” Was all he said.
“No? You do not-” he started but again, George cut him off.
“I will not be returning to the chair or your rooms. I have already told you that I am done. Done with it all. Done with you, doctor.” George did not allow the tremble he felt to affect his voice. He sounded strong, even to his own ears.
Doctor Monro seemed to recognize the seriousness in George and he started to attempt to repair the situation, “Your majesty, I-”
Monro cut his words off quickly when Charlotte entered through the other doorway of the study.
Charlotte was looking at what appeared to be letters as she walked and so she did not notice the other man in the room. “George, I’ve found another musician that-” she looked up and saw that her husband was not alone, “Oh, I did not realize you had a visitor.”
Charlotte immediately went from her casual, Just Charlotte, to Queen Charlotte in an instant. George found it incredibly impressive that his wife could shift so easily from one version of herself to another.
But George did not want Charlotte to give any of her kindness to this man.
“Yes, my dear, this is Doctor Monro .” George wasn’t sure what Charlotte would do but he knew he wanted to see it.
She stiffened so subtly that George was sure Monro had not noticed. But he had seen the recognition pass over his wife’s face.
“Monro, you said?” She looked from George to Monro.
Monro nodded, suddenly pretending to have a modicum of respect for the crown.
“Interesting, for I am sure I have heard of a Doctor Monro but it mustn’t be you. The Monro I have heard of is quite a beast. A man who hurts people that entrust him with their care. A man who tortures people and calls it medicine. That couldn’t be you, now could it?” A sort of grin spread across her lips but it was that of a creature that smelled blood in the water.
Monro’s brows raised and concern flashed in his eyes.
George smiled at Charlotte, “This is the very same Monro, my heart.”
Charlotte quirked her head to the side but did not speak, leaving room for Monro to defend himself. Only George knew that there was nothing the doctor could say to change Charlotte’s poor opinion of him.
“I - Your majesty, you must know that… Well, your husband is v-very sick.” Monro actually stammered which surprised George but he did admit, his wife was formidable and fierce. She could stare through anyone and see right to the core of them. It appeared she did not like what she saw in Monro.
A smile spread across Charlotte’s magnificent mouth, “I am well aware of who and what my husband is. I know of how his mind escapes him at times and I do not care. He is my husband .”
Monro feigned horror, “Your majesty - his sanity is what I care for, just as you. This madness he has will -”
Charlotte huffed out a mirthless laugh, “Do not presume to know what your Queen wants or cares for. I care not for his sanity. I care for his happiness, for his soul. Let him be mad if mad is what he needs.”
The words carved themselves into George’s heart and he felt that he would be branded by them for the rest of his days. Even as broken as he may be, he was the luckiest man on earth.
The doctor continued to stammer, trying to find his footing in the conversation, but Charlotte called for Reynolds and Brimsley who had been standing just outside of the study.
“Please remove this so-called doctor from the palace. He shall not return here any longer.” Her voice was commanding, leaving no room for questions.
George could have sworn a small smirk was appearing on Reynolds’ mouth but when he noticed the King looking at him, he reigned it in and became entirely serious. Reynolds and Brimsley escorted the man from the room as he continued shouting, “You will regret this - he will only get worse!”
Once everyone else was gone from the room, George deflated, sinking into a chair. He looked to his shaking hands and tried to breathe, tried to focus. He could feel his thoughts going a bit wobbly and tangled.
Charlotte sank to her knees in front of him, her gown pooling around her in a puff. She collected his hands in hers and forced him to look at her. Her voice was soft, but equally as forceful as it had been moments ago, “George, stay with me now. That man is wrong. He does not know you as I do, he does not know the strength that lies in your soul.”
George focused on Charlotte’s face, focused on the emeralds that hung at her ears, focused on how she squeezed his hands.
Slowly, his breathing calmed and his thoughts became clearer. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, one of gratitude.
“There he is, there is my George.” She said it so simply, as if she had not just walked him back from a cliff. Though how could she know how much it meant to him?
“You were saying about a musician?” George asked, unable to keep from chuckling at the absurdity of his change in topic.
Charlotte laughed with him, “Why yes, I was. How kind of you to help me remember. There is this lovely harpist that I hope to have come play for us some day. They apparently play many of my favorite songs but with a dramatic flair I supposedly have never seen before.”
“How did you find this musician?” George asked, feeling the floor beneath his feet and wishing it were soil.
“My brother, of course!” Charlotte laughed and George kissed her again before pulling her to her feet.
If this is what madness felt like with Charlotte, George knew he could accept it. He feared it would not always be so easy, but he knew that a life with Charlotte would be worth it.