KING GEORGE Ⅲ

It is with the deepest concern and solemn duty that we inform the public of His Majesty King George III’s present condition. His Majesty, owing to a severe and continued indisposition of mind, has been placed in careful seclusion under the constant attention of his physicians.

For the stability of the realm and the welfare of the people, it has been resolved that His Royal Highness George IV, Prince of Wales, shall assume the duties of Regent. His Royal Highness will act in His Majesty’s stead, governing with all the authority vested in the Crown, until such time as His Majesty may, by God’s mercy, be restored to health.

We ask that all subjects of the Crown continue to hold His Majesty in their loyal prayers, trusting in Providence that his strength and soundness may be restored.

a message from the mod!!

roots clutch my heels, stars stitch their cold light into my hair

but i Guessitsto latexor that.

have this igyess🌹

Thank youfor the rose

if you aren’t truly you, then are you really there at all or are you just a hollow shell?

best regards (you’re going to need it),

— @klefyer

I AM stil l me.

Fragile. worn yes, but not hollow.

- 💂

NO.

DO NOT COME FOR ME. do not speak of fetching me back to those halls that swallow and bind

The woods hold me. soft earth, honest wind—safer a thousand times than their rooms of glass and ink. If you come, they will take me

. they will LOCK me away where light cannot find me and where voices are muffled into orders. I will not be caged. I will NOT be catalogued like a s pecimen

a message from the mod!!

please. get better.

without you, i’d have nothing. yet having nothing starts to seem better than having you. yet i cant hate you. you’re my stepfather. how am i meant to?

please dont leave. please don’t go far.

please dont go at all.

maybe if i died, just like them, you’d notice me the same.

- ( @harzekeenjoyer )

No, no —don’t speak that way

Do not place yourself in the shadow of death just to be seen by me. You already are I notice you, always.

You really do not need to worry about me, dear. I am fine. Better than fine

There is a fire in me still, a crown that does not slip.

Ah, my child. never been better.

The air tastes sweet, the earth hums beneath my feet, and I walk crowned in light.

Do not mistake my silence for sorrow. I am well

Better than well—

Are you… doing okay?

I haven’t spoken to you in a while and I was just…

Wondering…

N. never been better.

I am fine. Far from the court, deep in the wood s, no signal, no noise. —just breath

Maybe you should run away with Washington

To a place where nobody can take you both apart

Yes... yes—perhaps you’re right

I should go go with him.

a message from the mod!!

Yes—yes, of course, I want nothing more

To see you, to hear you, to never be without you.

They gnash their teeth, they mutter "madness.. . madness"— but what do they know? They haven’t heard your voice

They haven’t. felt the air shift when you enter

You’re here

George's here

I’m not alone.

⠀⠀

⠀

G.

I know love. I know.

They whisper, they write, they spit their ink with cruel certainty. "hallucination," they call you, as though my heart lies.

But I know you.

Iknow the warmth of your voice, the weight of your words,

You’re no ghost, no trick of fevered mind

you’re mine.

I write this to you on an account of concern and frustration for your predicament. I am beyond words of how frightened I am for the future of both the nation and your own mind. You speak as though you are out of touch, and these…people, of whom you communicate with have no regard for the best in you. They see to it that you are driven mad.

I don’t believe you are talking to spirits (Washington?) nor any otherworldly creatures of that degree. I carry a most sincere belief that you are ‘manic.’

I’ve called on a few physicians that are going to be able to aid your mind and cure you of these plagued humors. I am doing this for you, and for the good of your people.

Britain can not run on a mad king, George.

-Yours eternally,

Lord B.

@earlofbotany

My dearest Bute,

I read your words— heavy, heavy, pressing like chains.

You speak of physicians, of cures, of humors bottled and drained. yet you do not listen

you do not see

George is here.

He is real.

His hand clasps mine in the silence, his voice steadies me when the world tilts.

would you call the sun unreal because you dared not open your eyes?

I will return to the palace grounds, yes. Yes—

but do not lock me.

Do not throw me in shadows where even his voice may. not reach.

I am your king— still— still crownd, still breathing, still sane enough to write, to feel, to know

Do not make me a prisoner, Bute.