Chapter Text
The heavy thud on the locked door was enough to burst the bubble of safety and serenity that had enclosed them, no longer was it just the two of them as they lay on the bed-- blankets askew, his clothes half gone while hands made gentle work to trace each line of his exposed torso. What had been a moment of rediscovery and reparations after the short tiff between the two, was quickly overturned and thrown to the wayside as the pounding shook the door.
Reynolds was the first to move, leaping from the bed in favour of gathering his shirt and Brimsleys coat, throwing the bundle of fabric at Brimsley as he made quick work to dress himself. Brimsley looked as panicked as he felt, assuming they had been caught or were about to be strung up for their love, although Reynolds had a feeling that was not the case.
“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt your sleep but it’s the king, he-- The king, he is in the gardens.”
He paused, unsure of how to best handle this without Brimsley knowing or the queen finding out… it would be so much easier if he was able to tell the other man what he knew. But he could not. He looked to the other man, who was now all but fully dressed and handing him his vest. “Francis, what is going on?” He whispered, concern evident through the furrow of his brow and wide-eyed gaze. “See to it that no one else knows, I will gather him,” Reynolds called out to the man on the other side of the door, sliding on his vest and working on the buttons, leaving Brimsleys question unanswered.
As the footsteps ran from the door, slowly tapering off, he moved quickly to step into his shoes before he made for the door. Tying his cravat loosely as he ran from the room, Brimsley close behind as the coast was due to be clear. “What is it? What is going on?” The shorter of the two asked, his voice a frantic whisper as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Turning to face him, he knew that this was it, that Brimsley would find out now and it would only be a matter of time until he told the queen.
“Just stand guard at the garden door. Clear the back halls. Lock the servants in and downstairs if you must. Keep everyone away,” he knew that demands would not sit well with the other, and if it were any other circumstance he may have taken a moment to be gentle or to ask but this was not the time for that. Not when the king needed him. “Please, Brimsley.” He added, looking at the other and watching as his face shifted. What had started as a look of concern and confusion, shift to a determined expression. “All right,” was the only response given before they each broke off running in opposite directions.
Lying to Brimsley was not easy, and truly was something that he dreaded. He had been able to avoid it before, kissing him to stop the questions or changing the subject when the other brought up the king but, that had been before the queen’s arrival and Brimsley now had to worry for her wellbeing the way that he worried for the king. Since her arrival, Brimsley had been far too astute. Keeping tabs on the king, asking the right questions at the wrong times and even hunting them down below stairs.
Maybe it would be good if Brimsley knew… although he did have a habit of letting secrets slip out. Telling the queen of the doctor’s visit had kept them apart for nearly a week as his anger and betrayal had kept him away from the shorter man. If the queen knew, it was a possibility she would still love the king, it could bring them closer and could keep the two couples together more times than not.
He could not think of that now though. He had to attend to his king and save him from his own mind. Running down the halls, and toward the door closest to the garden, he only allowed himself to slow once to grab a small blanket off a chair. The night air was chilly and if the king was out for too long he could fall physically ill, and it could serve as a restraint if the king fought him on his way inside
It was not often this happened, and never had he had to run from his bedchambers to retrieve the king. The two or three fits that had reached a magnitude similar to this had all happened at Kew, where the king ran to the observatory to look toward the stars and the heavens while yelling at the planet his heart desired--
“Venus! I see you!”
The kings shouting was hard to miss. Impossible really. It carried Reynolds along the path, not stopping when he saw the queen there with a lantern in her hand in only her dressing gown and robe. “Venus, my angel! I’m here!” The kings shouting was frantic, stark naked and yelling to the sky. “I’m here!”
He was falling on his knees as Reynolds passed the queen, blanket gripped tightly in his hands. “I feel you! Talk to me!” The shouting was that of a mad man, as treasonous as the thought was, Reynolds knew that was true. The king was lost, floating in space with the planets and the angels he studied. “I knew you would come! I knew it! Yes-- They will see!” Standing up now, the king was staring up a the sky, Venus in sight and there was no taking him from that.
“Your Majesty,” Reynolds tried, the king shouting over him as he spoke. “Your Majesty, perhaps you would like to warm up.” He continued, looking at the king who realized then he was not alone. “It is Venus, do you see her?” Nodding his head. “I do, Your Majesty.” He would do whatever he had to keep the king safe, playing along is what he had done once when they were boys and he was now sure that was the safest way for them to continue.
“Hello, Venus. Your Majesty, let us cover you up with this.” He tried, showing the blanket to the other but was quickly drowned out by the others shouting. “George,” a new voice tried. Queen Charlotte had moved quickly to them, taking the blanket out of Reynold’s hands and working to coax the king into coming inside with her. Then he moved purely on instinct, following behind the royal couple five paces back and watching as the queen protected the king in a way he would never be able to.
As they entered the building, Brimsley was waiting at the door, ever vigilant on his task of guarding the door. “Your Majesties,” he said as the royal couple entered, bowing before them in greeting. He didn’t allow the shock to show on his face and was careful about how he glanced at the king once he realized that he was naked aside from the blanket wrapped around him. “Brimsley, you are to meet us in the king’s quarters, bring supplies to clean the dirt from my husband.” Queen Charlotte spoke plainly, her eyes not leaving her husband as they walked. Brimsley nodded, his eyes darting to Reynolds quickly before he took his leave. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The walk to the king’s quarters was slow, with King George muttering softly to himself and trying to work out how Venus was now inside, it left Reynolds time to breathe. Although the king was certainly still in a state that caused concern and worry, at least now he would not need to hide the truth from Brimsley. He could be honest with what troubled him, what caused his hair to gray prematurely and what was keeping his mind awake the nights they lay together. The worst was far from over but it was at least not a secret now.
Brimsley had met them there, at the door with a basin of water and two sponges to scrub the king’s body free from the outdoor grime. He moved to open the door, allowing the royal couple inside and then Brimsley before he closed the door behind himself. No one dared to speak, the tension in the room was bitter and left Reynolds already tired frame, too tense. Brimsley lit a fire for them as the queen set her husband in front of the fireplace to warm up, following Reynolds’s lead as he began to gently scrub the king’s back.
It was minutes later that the tension became too much, and Brimsley spoke. “If Your Majesty prefers to retire, Mr. Reynolds and I are perfectly--” “Am I not permitted to wash the king?” The queen interrupted, looking at her right hand and challenging him to tell her ‘no’. “It is just not usual.” He supplied.
“I confess I still have much to learn about palace procedure. For instance, I just pulled the king out of a hole in the vegetable garden, where he was busy discoursing with the sky. Is that usual?” Queen Charlotte asked, glancing at Brimsley to start before her angry gaze locked on Reynolds and he felt white hot with shame, turning to look at Brimsley who truly seemed to hold the same anger in his eyes at tht moment. “No, Your Majesty. The king has not been his self lately,” he supplied in response, looking down at the king’s bare skin as he swiped away the grime.
“What is this? What is happening? What has happened to my husband?” There was no answer Reynolds could give, not now when it was clear there was no right answer and he could feel Brimsleys eyes burning into his back.
Once the king was clean to satisfaction, Reynolds helped him to bed while the queen spoke to Brimsley in a hushed tone before they both left without another word. Somehow, he knew this was always going to happen. Somewhere inside him, he had always feared the queen would find out about the king’s condition in the most unpleasant way and it would be his fault that he could not help him more. He debated returning to his bedchambers, he could stay here, sleep on the chair and hope for the best but if he were to best assist the king he would need a full night’s rest… or rather as close as he could get given the current hour. He looked over the king, waiting till his body had stilled with deep slumber before he left the room.
Walking back to his chambers, his head felt heavy and his mind was abuzz. What had caused this? His Majesty had seemed to be doing so well, and now he had declined tenfold. He could not get the image of his king-- his friend, yelling to the sky, out of his head. The delight on his face as he addressed the planet. His back hit the soft top of his mattress before he had even realized he was in his room, his mind wandering back to when the king had begun to decline.
“She will lose… she will lose the… moon.”
“No sky, no moon. No moon, no lunars. No lunars, no longitude. No longitude, no bride. She loses the moon, and she is lost.”
It was then that the Dowager Princess had ordered everyone to withdraw, that included Reynolds but he had only been outside the door, listening as the king muttered his worries about the moon and the constellations losing him his bride.
He had followed down to the doctors examining room, waiting outside while the team of doctors that had been overlooking his royal highnesses treatment. Waiting diligently for his king to reemerge, part of him hoped he’d want to go back to his fields or something else that would leave the king’s men terribly hot in his uniform if it meant that the king himself would be back to himself.
The time after that had been the day of the royal wedding, though thankfully that one had been small in comparison. He had been beside the king, watching as his royal highness examined himself in the mirror, taking note of the way his hands fought a tremor and his eyes glazed over momentarily. Of course, the main excitement from the day had been when Brimsley approached him.
“There is a problem.” The newly appointed Queens Man had said, taking his stance beside the King’s Man. To an outsider, he had looked calm but Reynolds knew the truth. He could see anxiety teetering beneath the other man’s expression. “What have you done now Brimsley?” He had responded, a smile pulling at his lips. He had expected him to say something along the lines of ‘The bride’s gown does not fit’ or ‘the bride is demanding to meet the king before the ceremony’, all of which could be handled.
“The bride is missing.” His eyes shot to the king, unsure if he heard it or if anyone else around them had. Everyone else was engaged in conversation but not the king. “I don’t know what to do.” The king’s hand was shaking now, worse than before in the mirror. Looking at Brimsley, he was unsure how to handle this situation without causing alarm. “How? When did it happen?”
He had listened to the other’s panicked whispers, another soft, “I don’t know what to do,” escaping from his lover’s lips. Looking back at that moment, he was sure that his care and concern for Brimsley had clouded his judgement, and had lost him an important moment to tend to the king as he instead took the moment to offer the other Valet a gentle nod. “We shall find her. Go, alert the Dowager Princess that there is a hiccup… a dress issue perhaps, I shall go walk the grounds and you can start at the opposite end. She could not have gotten far.” He had said, his tone calm and soothing, and it was then that he realized the king was gone.
Once Brimsley had left the room, he followed suit to track the king down. Hearing a guard speak of how Doctor Monro had struck the king across the face but the king had pardoned him. But by the time he caught up with the king, he was informed that he had tracked the bride-to-be down and the wedding would continue as planned, meaning asking about the incident was out of the question.
That had been the last fit that caused concern. Allowing a doctor to strike him, had raised an abundant amount of concern within Reynolds. It was clear to him that Doctor Monro was a terrible man, evil to his core and not a servant to the crown but rather a servant to power. He would do anything to take power for himself, including ‘treating’ the king of the greatest nation on earth. Reynolds hated that man.
He had not had the displeasure of meeting him until after the night the queen and Brimsley had arrived unannounced at Kew. That night had not been great for the king but after being away from Brimsley for a week, when he had held hope they’d serve side by side, it was nice to see him.
“Will he be cross with her?” Brimsley had asked, his gaze straight ahead with a practice stare. “Absolutely, but she is standing up to him. Perhaps this is good.” He had replied, part of him holding out hope that the king would give in and at the very least consummate the marriage, give him and his own love a night together. “Perhaps… perhaps it is bad.”
“Would you like to step indoors while we wait to find out? Warm up a bit. It is a cool night.” If this would be a rare occurrence, Reynolds did not see the harm in taking advantage of it. “Thank you, sir. That is very kind and generous of you to offer.”
The walk to his quarters was excruciatingly slow, although their pace was fast. It was clear that the intentions were shared, and until they were behind a locked door, there was no acting on it. With the clunk of his lock, Reynolds turned to see Brimsley looking over his chess table.
“I’m always jealous that the king’s man has far better quarters than the queen’s man,” which was true. His room was much larger than Brimsleys, and his bed was much softer, although that might be due to the fact it got the most use. “To be expected. I am more important than you,” he had said in response, his voice challenging the other but the tension lasted for mere moments before they were grasping at one another with their lips pressed together.
They had bickered back and forth, whilst taking turns pushing one another back against the desk and then the bed. Discussing what to do with the report the palace was requesting, then the nature of the king’s bits… they were making the most of their time together in ways that suited them. They could not afford to not be productive when they had so little time together.
“Let us hope for twenty.”
Back when moments with Brimsley were harder to steal, harder to hold down, he had taken every opportunity to grasp at them and now with the moments just as fleeting but he was actively hiding from the other. Keeping secrets that were not his to tell and were slowly breaking the trust the other had in him.
He did not know how to do this.
Maybe it was the weakened state, the mental and emotional exhaustion but, he felt his eyes sting with tears. He could not cry, not now when at any moment the king could run by naked on his way to the stars once more. He could, however, take the moment to kick off his shoes and move to bury his head in his pillows. He could complain another time about the wrinkles in his clothes from sleeping in them, he could not be bothered to undress.
He could only allow his mind to wander now, thinking over the first few weeks of the king’s married life. How they had hidden away at Kue, the way Doctor Monro had been treating the king… how the king was adamant it had helped him. He had been there, outside the room, listening to the king scream in agony and argue that a broken king could not be better than a mad one. It had been the worst days of Reynolds’s life.
Knowing the king was in that room, unable to help him or stop the torment, and that the kind had sought out help from that horrid man. It was awful. The only time he had with the king was when Doctor Monro allowed, and it was typically for meals: although he would not call the gruel the king was being fed a meal. He would be sent to the king’s quarters to prepare his private dining, only then would he be joined in the room.
Enter the king, swaddled in a blanket as he made his way to his bed to dress, Reynolds could see the exhaustion on his face and he moved to stand to the side. “Is Your Majesty quite alright?” He asked, knowing the truth would not be spoken but he couldn’t stop himself from trying. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” The reason was clear between them, although if the king did not wish to address it there was very little he could do. It left him feeling helpless, unworthy of his title and unworthy to serve the crown.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. No reason at all.” He said as the king shook out his shirt, seemingly struggling to sort himself out. “Though… it is a prodigious quantity of ice they keep carting around here. And as for the food, I do not know I’d see it fed to our lowest stable hands-”
“Are you questioning the doctor’s methods, Reynolds?” George asked in response, and he could not lie. He could not face the king and lie to him, so instead he turned to face away, waiting for the king to either continue or need his assistance. “I have my own doubts about them, but I have to try.” He spoke as he crossed, leading Reynolds to move to pull out the chair for him to sit. “It’s the only chance I have of being with her.”
He was undergoing all that, all the torment, to be with her. To be with Queen Charlotte who was currently going mad in her solitude, and seemingly wanted nothing more than to be with him-- at least that is what Brimsley made it sound like.
“A woman like that is too dangerous for a man like me.” The king had said, speaking of the queen’s recent behaviour when she had shown up to Kew unannounced. “Or maybe a perfect match.” He had responded, knowing how true the statement of opposites attract could be. He knew firsthand that conflicting personalities could do wonders together, that the battle of learning one another was only the first step of a great love.
“Do you think?” Spoke the king through his mouthful of gruel, and Reynolds knew this was a luxury that years of friendship had granted him. Long before he was the King’s Man, he was His Majesty’s friend. As children, they played together and confided secrets in one another, something that they still did now but to a lesser degree. “I think, we cannot know until His Majesty spends more time with her.” He responded, looking to the king briefly before adverting his gaze once again.
There had only been one sign of the fits returning, and it was easy enough for Reynolds to handle on his own. To see the start and to quickly ground His Majesty to the reality around them. A hand on his shoulder and a gentle squeeze was all it took, no ice baths or torture chairs.
Everything had been going well, or he had allowed himself to hope. The guilt was unbearable, sinking him into the bed and swallowing him whole. How had he allowed himself to miss the signs, to fail the king, to get caught in his lies. He felt the cold pull wash over him… and then it warmed.
He opened his eyes, blurry from the near sleep he had sank into and potentially brimming with tears, he could make out a shape. Blinking the sleep away, he saw Brimsley. He watched, helpless, as the other man folded the clothes he had been wearing and then moved to undress himself. How long had he been here? Long enough to undress him without him noticing, probably believing the blonde to be asleep. “Brim,” he whispered, his body shaking from under the covers the other had carefully draped over him.
“I know,” he spoke, moving to slide under the covers beside him. It was only a moment before Reynolds was hidden against him, hiding his face in the other’s neck and holding on to him as tight as he could. “I’m sorry,” managed the other, tears stinging in his eyes. “Worry not, I am here… I will keep your mind at ease.” Brimsley whispered into his hair, his hands coming to hold the other tight to his chest.
He knew that there were still going to be problems and that his lies and secrets would not go unpunished by the other but, in this moment: Reynolds believed he was free to dream. He could dream of the life they could live together one day, side by side, serving the king and queen. That the queen would not abandon the king, that the king would stay by her side as husband and wife ought to do. To live the life they were supposed to so that he and Brimsley could live the life they dreamt of alongside them in the shadows.
When he awoke, the room was vaguely lit by the rising sun and his bed was cold. The safety that he had been enveloped in when he drifted to sleep was gone. Brimsley had left him. He sat up, looking around the room and moving to light one of the many candles around him, seeing a piece of folded parchment on the desk with only his name across the top. Moving forward, he picked it up and held it to the light of the candle.
Francis,
I hope we can speak plainly the next time we meet. No more secrets.
With love,
Bartholomew
He was mad. That much was clear, if not by the short message but by the amount of pressure the parchment had endured. He still signed it with love, so there was still genuine emotion there but it would likely be overtaken by anger until they could speak again. Hopefully, that night, once the royal couple both retired, they would be able to speak. Looking over the parchment, Reynolds took a deep breath and tucked the note into his pillowcase for safekeeping before he moved on.
He got dressed, taking his time as he doubted the king would be up yet and there was no knocking at his door so he could assume all was well. He tied on his cravat, taking a deep breath before he realized it was not his. It was Brimsleys. It smelt of the other man, not in an overbearing way or unpleasant in any way. This was something he had done for him in the past, as a way to provide comfort. The morning of the royal wedding, he had switched cravats with him before sunrise. They could not hold hands, or share any affection like any other couple and on that day Brimsley had woken with so many nerves that Reynolds had swapped them out of hope to provide the other comfort.
He smiled to himself, taking a moment to himself before he started for the king’s quarters. It would be nearly another hour until he heard the king. “Reynolds!” He had called. “Reynolds, my carriage!” He added as the called-upon man entered the room.
Reynolds had been unaware of any travel that might be occurring unless the queen had taken for somewhere… which would make sense Brimsley was gone so early.
Things moved quickly from there. The king was dressed and they were in a carriage to follow the Queen to the palace. Somewhere that Reynolds wished they had not gone. Hearing Queen Charlotte and the Dowager Princess shouting about His Majesty’s ailment was not something he had hoped to come across, and it certainly did not help the king’s condition.
“When we arrive back at Buckingham House, I want my things packed. We shall head back to Kew today.” George had said once they were back in the carriage and Reynolds was sure his heart had physically cracked. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He responded, looking to the king and watching as the man stared out the window, clearly distraught. “I will be enlisting the help of Doctor Monroe once more… this cannot happen again.”
Reynolds did not want to leave Buckingham House, not now. Not when everything had gone so terribly wrong but how could he argue? “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but do you believe that wise? To leave without speaking with Her Majesty about this?” He tried, looking at the man and awaiting his response. “We’ve secured an heir, she is to be in confinement now and I need to heal my mind… for the safety of her and the child.”
News of the pregnancy was clearly a shock to Reynolds, although with how active their pursuits had been it should not have been such a surprise. “Right, of course, Your Majesty. Forgive me, I did not know of the happy news.” He said softly, glancing from the window. That could have easily been the breaking point for the king’s composure, sending him to the fit he had been in mere hours ago. Still, he did not want to leave, not without a goodbye.
When they arrived back at Buckingham House, he moved quickly to instruct the members of staff to pack the king’s belongings and made arrangements for the carriage for their travels. Knowing that Doctor Monro was to join them back at Kew, made Reynolds skin burn and the same shame from before filled his chest. He could not help the king, not in healing his mind. He could only be there to take care of him after.
By the time the queen’s carriage had returned, the king’s carriage was nearly ready to leave, just awaiting His Majesty to join them. Reynolds was waiting on the stairs, watching as Brimsley got out of the carriage and then waiting for the queen as she got out. He did not dare make eye contact with Her Majesty, bowing to her as she set her feet on the ground, but he could feel her eye him before she continued inside.
Perhaps they had a spoken arrangement, or perhaps Brimsley was taking a risk, either way, the shorter man approached him with a raised brow. “You’re leaving?” He asked, exasperation clear in his tone, despite the effort he was putting into hiding it.
“The king has decided we’re to return to Kew,” Reynolds responded, wishing to make it clear this was not what he wanted. “I had hoped we would have a moment to speak about last night.” Was the hushed response from Brimsley and the taller of the two could not contain his small sigh. “As had I.”
If the fates had been kinder, they would have been allotted a moment together now. A chance to sneak away and work it through or even say goodbye in private. The fates, however, were cruel and seemingly shared the same disdain for him that Brimsley was showing in his expression, as the king had just emerged. “Reynolds, is everything set?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, everything is packed. We leave on your ready,” Reynolds said, keeping his eyes on Brimsley who bowed to the king before meeting his lover’s glance. “I shall be in contact, have a safe trip, sir,” he said before he turned and made after the path the queen had taken a moment ago.
Watching Brimsley leave, Reynolds had nearly missed the king’s call to leave for Kew. He nodded his head at the task before he moved to the carriage, waiting for the king to get in before he too climbed in and sat across from him. “This is what is best for them, Reynolds.” The king said once the carriage began to move.
He could not disagree more, the idea of leaving a pregnant woman alone did not sit well with him. Not to mention that until the previous night, the king had been seemingly doing well and leaving to be tortured was not going to help anyone at this moment in time. No one was happy with this arrangement.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”