Chapter Text
Colin had been summoned. A letter had been hand-delivered to him at his personal apartments. He had, by order of the King, been summoned to attend a meeting that was, quote, ‘of great importance’. At least it was something to do. He was bored out of his mind these days. Previously, he had been in the military. Admittedly he wasn't a particularly good soldier, but he did enjoy it. He'd been on several tours, including in active warzones. However, since his eldest brother king Anthony Bridgerton had died in a tragic car accident two years ago, and the second born, Benedict had ascended to the throne making Colin the new heir presumptive, it had been decided that Colin could no longer serve.
Apparently, one of these days they were going to start giving him more official duties, meet and greets, public relations, charity events and the like but they've been so wrapped up in instating Benedict that training Colin as the heir had been pushed back. Which is why he was quite thankful for the summons, because perhaps they were finally going to do just that.
When he entered the meeting room the air was icy, unnerving. Both Benedict and their mother were present, as was the Prime Minister, Charlotte Strelitz, plus a large quantity of advisers and aides. Colin took his usual seat to Benedict's right. He greeted his brother with a friendly smile, but Benedict couldn't meet his eye. Confused, Colin glanced at his mother who gave him a grim smile that didn't reach her eyes. His stomach flipped for some reason.
He thought he'd been the last to arrive but bang on the hour, the King’s private secretary Agatha Danbury walked through the door, set down her files and started to speak.
“This is a grim day,” she began. She took everyone in, assessing them with her sharp eyes. Then they fell on Benedict and if Colin wasn't mistaken, he would have said that disgust filled them. His brother met her gaze impassively. Finally, her eyes turned to Colin himself and as was par for the course with her when it regarded him, disappointment became the prevalent emotion. Colin squirmed in his seat. She continued, “Some of you know why we're here but most don’t, and I think the man that has called us here should speak himself.” She glared at Benedict again.
He stood up clearing his throat, “Thank you, Mrs Danbury. I'm very sorry to have called you all here today but this matter is urgent and unavoidable. I have, decided to step down without further notice.” Gasps echoed around the room, but Benedict ignored them and pressed on. “Indeed, the dreaded word: abdicate.” Colin's stomach dropped. “I have been deliberating over this for several weeks. If there was another way, I would take it. As some of you know, I have fallen deeply in love and when I spoke with several in this room about the possibility of marrying her, I was told she was a wholly unsuitable match and was forbidden from doing so.”
Colin knew of this relationship. It had become quite the scandal behind closed doors; his elder brother had become entangled with a palace maid. Allegedly she was the illegitimate daughter of an Earl but when one was the King, that just wasn't good enough. Colin had assumed that his brother would quietly keep the woman as his mistress and marry some bore for the sake of duty. He didn't really approve of such things and thought them outdated but he had understood that his brother was in love and that could have been the only option. Or apparently not.
“I cannot rule, nor barely live without her,” Benedict continued, “This decision has been hard but the unhappiness I would feel without her would cause the nation to suffer. It is in the best interest for the Crown and the people that I step down.”
Colin’s stomach dropped again. He really, really didn’t like where this was going.
Benedict sat down and Danbury took up the stage once more, “As I’m sure you have all concluded, with His Majesty abdicating, that means that His Highness Prince Colin shall ascend to the throne.”
Shit.
She continued to speak but her voice had become fuzzy to Colin’s ears. Of course that had been his immediate understanding of the situation, but he had refused to accept it. But hearing the words spoken aloud… He couldn’t be king. He was completely incompetent. He’d only had one job since he was sixteen; soldier, and he’d been rubbish at that. They hadn’t even bothered training him as a potential heir. There had been no need, he was a third son. When Anthony had passed there were big talks about training him up now that he was the heir but truthfully, he was sure nobody had bothered or prioritised it because really, in the aftermath, who would have assumed that Benedict too would pass away without an heir like the eldest had. Certainly, nobody could have predicted this.
Vaguely he could tell that there was a bit of back and forth between Danbury, Benedict, their mother and Mrs Strelitz. Possibly trying to convince him to change his mind one last time, but clearly this hadn’t been the first conversation about this. Only Colin, the poor sod that would be facing the consequences had been left in the dark until now. Him and a few random aides apparently.
“If you are sure,” Danbury sighed, “Then the documents have been prepared.”
She waved a hand at an aide and a very official looking file was placed in front of Benedict. He extracted the paperwork and began to read. He nodded as he went through and when he got to the end, he lifted a fountain pen that had been placed carefully in front of him and signed each and every individual copy without hesitation.
Colin’s stomach went for a third time.
“And there we have it,” Mrs Strelitz said. She was handed her copy and glanced over it. “His Majesty has now been reverted to His Highness Prince Benedict, unless our new king has any objection? Any wish to strip him of such a high title as would be his right?”
There was silence for a moment and then the Queen Mother, Violet Bridgerton said gently, “Colin dearest, we are asking you.”
He blinked and came back to the room. He shook his head, “N-no. I cannot fault a man for falling in love.”
“Thank you,” Benedict said quietly.
Colin shrugged, “If Anthony had still been alive, you wouldn’t have needed to do all this in the first place so…”
There was an awkward silence then. Colin didn’t like it.
“Colin, dearest,” his mother prompted, “Did you have anything else you wished to say as the role is handed to you now?”
It was kind of her to try to save him from his floundering. But his head was whirling and in that moment, he didn’t wish to be in charge, he wished to take on the role he had always assumed in the family. The one that resorted to humour to ease the tension.
“Are we sure the jobs not cursed?” Colin found himself joking grimly. “Because I’m not so sure I want it.”
“Whatever do you mean dearest?” his mother asked sternly, “Cursed?”
“Oh,” Benedict said idly, “I think my dear brother means that four kings in fifteen years are bad odds and he’s expecting some kind of tragic accident to befall him soon.”
“Yes,” Colin agreed readily, “And you’ve managed to take the only non-life-threatening exit route so I really don’t see how I can escape with my life.”
“You could abdicate too?” Benedict teased.
Colin looked like he was considering it, “I’m not so sure Gregory has it in him, could I do that to the people?” Then under his breath muttered, “Not that I do either.”
“Stay long enough to change the law then hand it off to Daphne then?” Benedict suggested with a grin.
Colin pointed at his brother, “Now we’re talking!”
“Enough of this nonsense!” Danbury shouted, slamming a hand down on the conference table they were all sitting around, making most at the table jump, “This is not a laughing matter Your Majesty.” Colin wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or Benedict with that last title, but it definitely didn’t feel comfortable on his shoulders. “Prince Benedict has made a very severe decision today and it affects the entire country, not only yourself, Your Majesty.”
Definitely Colin then. He thought he might be sick.
“As you have so aptly pointed out, these last fifteen years have shown the instability of the crown, two tragic deaths and now…this,” she waved in Benedict’s direction, which seemed a bit insolent because despite having literally just handed in his letter of resignation he was still technically the king. At least until the announcement was made. But Danbury had known them all since they were children and despite their titles and roles, she likely still thought of them as such, “King Colin…”
“Woah!” he said, leaning back in his chair and holding up his hands, “I think it’s a bit soon to be throwing that title around. The ink is barely dry on Benedict’s signature. Give a man a few days to come to terms with his fate, would you?”
“I hate to state the obvious,” Mrs Strelitz, said dryly, “But it seems to me that you’re quite averse to this development.”
He clasped his hands and leant forward on the table, “Mrs Strelitz, fifteen years ago it was a fact that I would never see the crown. Not an improbability but a cold, hard fact. Now, fifteen years later, against all odds its being thrust upon me, I’m sure you can understand why I’m so…hesitant.” He sighed, “I was never meant for this, I am not ready for this.” He chewed his lip and said meekly, “I can’t do this.”
“You have to,” Danbury said stoically.
He looked helplessly at Benedict, “You really, really can’t change your mind brother?”
Benedict looked deeply apologetic, “I’m sorry Colin, truly. I do not wish to do this to you, but Sophie is more important to me than the Crown. I cannot be happy without her.”
Colin dropped his head to the table with a loud thunk. There were several panicked gasps from around the room and Colin groaned internally, God forbid the bloody king gave himself a concussion. Maybe that was the solution? Slam his head repeatedly against the table until they decided he was mad and unfit to rule.
Without lifting his head from the table, his words muffled, he asked, “How long before a statement is made?”
“It is imperative that the nation is made aware with haste.”
“That’s not an answer,” he groaned against the table.
“Tomorrow morning at latest,” Danbury said finally.
Colin groaned. The sound rumbled against the wood. He sat up very suddenly and several people were physically startled by the movement. He stared intently down at the table he’d just vacated; eyes fixed on the gap between his hands that were practically braced on the tabletop. He took a single, deep, cleansing breath, then checked his watch.
“I would like three hours,” he demanded, “A private room. And a secure phone line.”
Danbury studied him for a long moment with her sharp eyes then turned to a member of her team and gave a curt nod. In an instant the man was on his feet, pulling a phone from his inside pocket and walking out with the phone to his ear.
“And once you’ve had your three hours Your Majesty, you’ll be ready to play with us, is that it?” Danbury asked. Colin resented her use of the word ‘play’, but he didn’t wish to stoop to her level by acknowledging it.
“Yes,” he said firmly, holding eye contact with her.
“You realise Sir,” She continued, “That the image you have been curating for the past six/seven years needs to be completely overhauled. That version of yourself is dead now.”
“Yes,” he repeated with the same steady conviction. “Three hours. Give me those three hours and I’ll return to this room the perfect heir.”
“You shall need to return to this room as the perfect king,” Danbury pressed.
“That too,” he agreed.
Her jaw tensed as she continued to study him. He held his head up, meeting her gaze. Finally, she lifted the tablet on the table in front of her, tapping away.
“Let us reconvene here at 6pm sharp,” she said to the room. “King Colin, Prince Benedict, the Prime Minister and Team 1 will return at the designated hour, and all subsequent teams will remain at their desks to follow the relevant procedures. Her Majesty, the Queen Mother’s presence is not required but she may attend as she sees fit. I expect a draft statement be prepared by that time for King Colin to review. I want the BBC discreetly pre-warned so they can send a crew. We’ll have Prince Benedict record a personal statement of abdication to air following the official press release. Let’s have a draft of that statement by 6 as well.” She looked up from the tablet and peered over her glasses surveying the room. “Is everyone satisfied?”
There were nods and murmurs of assent all round and she dismissed them.
As soon as Colin was on his feet, Benedict was pulling him into his arms. He whispered in his ear, “I am truly sorry Colin, but believe me, I felt reassured that I could make this decision knowing that you will succeed me.”
“I don’t think I can do it Ben,” he murmured back. His brother held him at arms-length, then took Colin’s face in his hands.
“You can Col. You might not have been reared for it the way Anthony was and the way I was as the spare but you’re intelligent and despite the face you’ve been putting on for a while, you do have a sense of self. You can and will persevere,” he promised. “Don’t be afraid to call me if you need some advice as well, alright? I may have abdicated but I’m still your brother and I’m still here for you.”
Colin nodded, “Thanks Ben.”
Benedict kissed Colin on the forehead then released his little brother and left the room. Violet’s hand came up to Colin’s arm and rubbed it reassuringly.
“I know you are unprepared dearest,” she said gently, “But your brother is right, I do believe that you, above all my children will be able to get through this.”
“Alright, Mama,” Colin muttered with a nervous nod, tears forming in his eyes as he used the moniker that hadn’t passed his lips since he was a boy. She squeezed his arm and left the room as well.
“Sir,” Danbury called, having waited patiently for his family to speak with him, “Your private room and secure line is ready when you are.”
Colin nodded and followed the aide that had been sent to arrange his requests. His heart near enough stopped when they came to a halt outside the door of the room he’d been led to. The study. His father’s study. Then Anthony’s. Then Ben’s.
And now, he supposed, his.
He glanced sidelong at the aide, reverting to a jovial tone as a form of self-defence, “Are we sure this is the right room?”
“It is the only appropriate room, Your Majesty,” the aide said apologetically.
“Of course,” Colin said, resigned. He took a deep breath that ended in a sigh and grasped the doorknob, entering, what would be forevermore, his personal study.
The room was unreasonably grand, high ceilings as with all the rooms in the palace, large windows, ancient furniture that belonged to this former king or that. The great mahogany desk sat in pride of place. Once it had been merely a writing desk but over time a landline and then a computer had been added to the tabletop. He closed the door gingerly, blocking out the outside world. He leant heavily against it, loosening his tie that had been choking him since he entered the conference room.
With a huff he pulled the whole thing off a moment later, and moved to abandon it, and his suit jacket on the back of a nearby settee. He made his way to the desk and sat down tentatively. Internally he wondered if this was the same chair that all the former kings that had used this study and this desk had sat in? Was it simply Benedict’s choice or was it imprinted with the arsecheeks of king’s past?
He rather felt like a child playing dress-up in his father’s clothes. The room was too big, the desk too big, the role too big. He was a tiny little minnow being asked to become a shark.
Shaking his head he pulled off his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves then pulled the phone towards him. Old school, he noted, wired. He wondered if that made it more or less of a secure line than a cordless one that he could have paced around the room with. He lifted the receiver and typed in a number that he knew by heart that he shouldn’t really have known at all.
It rang, once, twice, three times.
“The Guardian, Penelope Featherington, editor-in-chief speaking.”
“Pen,” Colin choked out.
There was a long silence on the other end until finally Penelope said slowly, “Colin? Wh- why are you calling me?”
“I have a secret that I need to tell you, but you have to swear to me that you’ll keep this to yourself until it becomes public knowledge,” he said desperately.
“Col…” she said uncertainly.
“Please Pen,” he pleaded.
She sighed then said, “Fine, I swear.”
“I’m serious Pen, you can’t even draft an article until the paper is notified through the official channels.”
“I swear to you Colin,” she promised definitively, “Whatever you say right now is between you and me.”
He ran a hand through his hair then leant against it.
“Benedict is abdicating.”
“…”
“Pen?”
“Holy shit,” she whispered, “Please let me write the exclusive!”
“Pen, you promised!”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry Colin,” she said with a huff, “But can you blame me?”
“I can blame you,” he said assuredly, “But I also understand you.”
“How are you?” she asked, and, in that moment, he knew he had called the right person. Nobody else cared how he was right now. All that mattered was the Crown, not the feelings of the man that was suddenly expected to wear it.
He chuckled humourlessly, “I’ve been better.”
“Hmm, can I get a real response please Your Highness?” she said sternly.
“I’m fucking freaking out Pen,” he said almost immediately, “Bloody Danbury was in there calling me ‘Your Majesty’ and ‘King Colin’ the second Ben had finished signing the declaration. For goodness’s sake, I can’t be the blasted king! The papers have literally been calling me the party prince and the playboy prince for bloody years, I am literally the worst candidate for this. There’s a reason that Anthony was fine with me continuing to be dispatched on tours instead of doing the political hand-shaking shit once I turned twenty-one.”
“Okay, first of all,” she said, “You and I both know that the party, playboy prince is all the invention of the tabloids. It’s not a crime for a young man in his early twenties to go to parties and have sexual experiences, the only problem is that they know that they’ll sell papers if they plaster your youthful exploits on their covers for the whole world to scrutinise. Unlike them, I know you; I know that now that you’ve got to step up, all that shit has immediately become inconsequential to you. Am I right?”
He sighed and rubbed his forehead, “Yes…”
“Right,” she said firmly, “Hard work, duty, family, that’s what matters now, and Colin Bridgerton has all three of those in spades. Now, I know you weren’t primed for this like your brothers, and I know you were allowed to join the military and do spare-to-the-spare duties this whole time, but you know what Colin Bridgerton has that neither King Anthony nor King Benedict could touch with a ten-foot pole?”
“What?” he asked, exasperated. There was literally nothing he had that could outshine his brothers, who were (had been?) perfect paragons of duty.
“Charm,” she said firmly. “You, my dear friend, are a people person. You are likeable. All it will take is a few well-planned appearances and a couple of clever initiatives and you will become the People’s King. In fact, I literally bet you right now that that exact title will become your moniker in the press.”
“It doesn’t count if you start it, Pen,” he scoffed.
“Hey, I’m serious Col, a proper wager. I swear I’ll never say that phrase to another soul and I’ll never ever put it in print.” She insisted, “Come on then, what do you want to bet.”
“Setting petty wagers with the editor-in-chief of the Guardian doesn’t seem very kingly Pen,” he commented.
“Well, you’re not talking to the editor-in-chief Penelope Featherington right now, you’re talking to your old pal Pen, so come on Bridgerton, name your price,” she said.
He sighed then sat for a minute and thought about it. He knew exactly what he wanted from her but a part of him was scared to say it. He also had a feeling that she knew exactly what she was talking about, and he didn’t want to be the loser if he named the price he really wanted. He chewed his lip.
“I’ll go first then,” she said as the silence wore on. “If I win you have to give me a damehood and give a brand of my choice a royal warrant.”
He snorted, “Really using my new power for the useless Pen.”
“So? It’s just a dumb bet,” she chuckled, “Come on Bridgerton, name it.”
“If I win…” he said slowly, then threw caution to the wind because he knew he was going to lose anyway, “You have to marry me.”
“…what?”
“You heard me Pen,” he said, settling into his chair to explain himself, “I can almost guarantee that in a few months’ time Danbury is going to push me to find a bride. I can’t be the third king in a row to die or abdicate without issue, passing the crown onto the next sibling along. It would look bad. It would make the crown look unstable, insecure. I’m one hundred percent certain that I’ll be expected to produce an heir within the next five years.”
“The problem is that I know the list of women they’ll encourage me to court and choose from, and I also know that I couldn’t spend a lifetime with a single one of them. So, here’s my dilemma; I’m going to need to marry someone respectable quickly but also be prepared to live with them forever. I’m going to need to sleep with them at least enough times to produce an heir and a spare, so realistically I’d like to be attracted to them too.”
“So, tell me Pen, name a better candidate than my best friend, daughter of an earl that I already know I’m sexually compatible with?”
“You’re mad Bridgerton,” was her response, “I’m a bloody journalist, I can’t be your queen.”
“Danbury could spin that to our advantage if I picked you,” he said with certainty.
“Didn’t we already agree that we should just be friends?” she asked, “And then we’ve barely spoken since.”
“Sure,” he agreed, “But that was when we were considering a serious relationship.”
“And you don’t consider marrying you, the King, a serious relationship?” she laughed.
He grinned so ardently that he was sure she could hear it on the other end. “Not in the same way. Before we were deciding on romance and love, this time I’m offering friendship and sex.”
“And what if I still want romance and love Colin?” she asked wearily.
“Then I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you,” He said calmly. Then he lowered his voice and said quietly, “Look Pen, why are you railing so hard against this? You and I both know you’re going to win and me choosing this as my prize is moot.”
She seemed to consider this then said finally, “Fine, I’ll agree to those terms on one condition: we expand the definition to any title that implies you are a friendly and beloved king.”
“Is there a special prize if you’re right and it’s the ‘People’s King’ anyway?” he asked.
“Maybe, but I’ll decide on that when the time comes.”
“Deal,” he chuckled.
“Are you feeling any better Col?” she asked.
“Not really,” he sighed, “Any chance you’d come here until I need to go back at six? I’ll send a car.”
She sighed as well, “I’ve still got work Colin.”
“You’re the boss,” he whined, “Its only, what, half an hour, forty-five minutes before end of day?”
There was another silence, and Colin was sure he could hear the tapping of a pen against a desk.
“Fine,” she huffed, “Send the bloody car, but your driver better be quick and it better be worth it.”
“It will,” he promised.
Thirty minutes later there was a knock on the door, and he swung it open to see her standing there, her long, curly hair pulled back into a perfectly styled high ponytail, crisp pink shirt and black pencil skirt hugging her figure beautifully, and arms crossed. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the room, almost slamming the door shut as he swung it carelessly back into its frame. Immediately his arms were around her, burying his face into her at the place where her neck and her shoulder met.
Like instinct she responded instantly, rubbing circles into his back and running a soothing hand through his hair. They stood like that for a while, holding each other, breathing each other in.
Finally, without moving an inch Colin mumbled against her, “Thank you Pen.”
“Of course, Col,” she murmured comfortingly, Then, she leant back away from him, taking his face in her hands, “You’ve got this. Even if the whole world doubts you, remember that I’ve got your back.”
He grinned and bent down giving her a very light, very innocent peck on the lips, “Thanks.”
Despite her responding grin, she gave him a very soft scolding tap on his cheek, “None of that Your Majesty, I came here as Pen the friend, not Pen the friend-with-benefits.”
“You wear so many hats, Penelope Featherington,” he teased.
“Not really,” she shrugged, “It’s only you that gives me so many different roles to juggle. And we agreed that that kind of relationship was behind us.”
“And it is!” he acknowledged, “But soon you’re going to be my fiancée so what’s a little kiss between friends?”
She let out a soundless chuckle as she shook her head in annoyance with his antics. Then, she pulled his face down to hers, so their noses were almost touching. An intake of breath echoed from both their lips involuntarily at the sudden proximity. Neither acknowledged it, nor the way their eyes respectively darkened.
“Not yet,” she breathed then seemed to consider her words and corrected, “Not likely.”
He opened his mouth to respond but there was a gentle knock on the door and the pair sprung apart like teenagers that had just been caught snogging by their mum. He straightened the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt and cleared his throat.
“Enter,” he called.
The door opened and the aide that had brought him here was standing on the other side, hands clasped in front of him respectfully. His eyes flitted to Penelope who had leant against the back of a settee and was perched impressively casually with her arms and ankles crossed.
His gaze returned to Colin, and he said, “The meeting with your advisors will resume in ten minutes Your Majesty.”
He cleared his throat and said, “Yes, thank you, just give me a moment and I’ll be right there.”
The aide nodded a bow and closed the door. Colin dropped his face into his hands and groaned. Penelope chuckled and lifted his tie and jacket, folding the latter over her arm. She moved to him and prised his hands away from his face. Silently she lifted his collar and drew his tie around his neck, carefully knotting it in place. Then she took each of his arms in turn and rolled down the sleeves, wordlessly finding his cufflinks on the desk and putting him back together. Finally she shook out his jacket and held it out for him. Obediently he turned around and slipped his arms into the sleeves so she could lift it up onto his shoulders. He turned back to her and she ran her fingers through his hair, straightening it up.
When she was done, the same hand came to rest on his cheek, “Have faith in yourself.”
“Wait for me?” he asked. She gave him a gentle smile and a little nod and he let out a sigh of relief. He gave her a confident nod in return and left without another word, striding down the hall towards his duty and his fate.
When Colin returned to the conference room several chairs had been removed, and the only remaining seat was the one at the head of the table that Benedict had occupied earlier. His brother had taken up his vacated seat to the right and his mother sat to his left. Although his heart faltered seeing the position left so intentionally for him, he held his face stony, not allowing the team to see his cracks any longer. He strode far more confidently than he felt and dropped into the chair without a word. He turned an eyebrow to Secretary Danbury and waited.
She cleared her throat with a disapproving air and said, “Your Majesty, there has been a – ahem – rumour since we broke that you had a car sent and gave security clearance for a member of the press to be admitted to the palace?”
Although she posed it like a question it was clearly a scolding.
“I did,” he said shortly.
“Your Majesty, I do believe when we broke three hours ago you swore to uphold the crown you now wear, I cannot see how inviting the press into our midst is mark of a responsible king?”
“I did not invite the press into our midst,” he told her firmly, “I invited a friend for moral support in the moment that I most needed someone to lean on. …who happens to be a member of the press.”
“Sir, she is the edito-.”
“I know what she is,” he cut off sternly, “She is the trusted daughter of an earl and my oldest and dearest friend. She knows when to hold her tongue – and her pen – when it is necessary in regards to the Crown. I trust her implicitly and will not hear a word against her. Now, I believe you gave me three hours to collect myself, which I have now done, regardless of the method I chose. Let us please get on with the important business and put my irrelevant personal matters to the side.”
“Sir, you must realise that none of your personal matters are irrelevant anymore,” Danbury said wearily.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, “But you gave me those three hours for those personal matters to remain irrelevant. From this moment on I accept that I’m the king and my personal matters are yours to scrutinise, but until I stepped back into this room, they remain mine. Are we clear?”
Danbury raised an impressed eyebrow, “Crystal, Your Majesty.”
He nodded and gestured for her to proceed. Out the corner of his eye he could see Benedict smirking proudly and his mother smiling slyly. Maybe he did have this after all.
The meeting was long and he spent most of it listening to various draft statements and action plan outlines as Danbury barked at people. Several hours in and the BBC’s camera crew showed up so they all relocated to the official king’s office, the one where he took meetings and recorded the Christmas speech as opposed to the personal one where he quietly conducted his business.
Colin stood behind the camera, despite being offered a seat several times, right beside Danbury as he watched the room be lit to look like the early morning and his brother sit down to make his final speech as king. He wanted to watch his fate be enacted with his own eyes and his head held high, so he stood rigidly, shoulders back, hands clasped behind his back. It felt ironic that this stance was considered ‘at ease’ in the military considering ease was the last thing he felt right now.
“My beloved nation,” Benedict said sombrely, “It is with great regret that I come before you today, but my presence here is nonetheless essential. Today will mark the last day I shall discharge my duty as your King and have been succeeded by my brother, The Duke of Edinburgh.”
Another title Colin had been reluctant to take when Anthony had honoured him with it upon his twenty-first birthday. Anthony had done so in the hope Colin would use the title graciously and finally take some responsibility. Another thing he'd disappointed his elder brother with.
“My first words,” Benedict continued, “are to declare my allegiance to him. This I do with all my heart. This duty that I have held in the past two years has been a great burden on my shoulders, but one that I have tried to carry with dignity and honour as my brother, King Anthony and my father King Edmund did before me. I know, it may come as a surprise to you all that I must make this serious decision, one which is mine, and mine alone. Even my Love, for whom I have decided to renounce the Throne has tried to persuade me to take another course, but I recognise that this path is the correct choice, as despite all thought otherwise, as it is the best end for all.
“This decision has been made less difficult to me by the sure knowledge that my brother, with his record of valiance and duty for our great nation, and with his exceptional character and temperament will be able to take my place forthwith, without interruption or injury to the life and progress of the Country.
“During these hard days in which I have made the most difficult decision of my life, I have been comforted by Her Majesty, my mother, and by my family. The Ministers of the Crown and in particular, Mrs Strelitz, the Prime Minister, have always treated me with full consideration. For which I thank them and humbly apologise for my failure to uphold the constitutional tradition as per my predecessors.
“During my time as both heir presumptive and in these years in which I have occupied the Throne, I have been treated with the greatest love and acceptance from all those I have encountered as I lived and journeyed through the Nation and the Commonwealth, for which I am so very grateful.
“I now retire altogether from public affairs and lay down my burden. I shall, however, always belong as a devoted citizen of this great nation and if at any time in the future I can be found of service to His Majesty in a private station I shall not fail.
“And now, we all have a new King. I wish him, and you, his people, happiness and prosperity with all my heart. God Save The King.”
“Cut!” the director called. There was rustling around as Danbury and others agreed that they were happy with the results. Colin however, stood stock still, staring down his elder brother with watery eyes. Benedict met them with his own soft, apologetic gaze and gave him a single, comforting nod, like the passing of the gauntlet, or he supposed, the Crown and the Throne. Colin nodded back then turned his back on his brother.
“Is there much more Mrs Danbury?” he asked.
“I think that’s all for today, Your Majesty,” she said in the kindest tone she had mustered all day.
“Very well,” he nodded, “I shall retire to my private study for a few hours should you need me.”
The surrounding people gave him polite but brief bows as he left.
In the study, Penelope was curled up on a sofa, a laptop perched on her knee and a lollipop sticking out of her mouth. He smiled fondly at the sight. If he didn’t know better he might have thought he’d gone back five years to her university days when she would hide out in his private apartments to write her essays.
“Where did you get all that?” he asked dropping down onto the settee opposite her, kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket.
“I had brought it with me,” she said round the lollipop, “It was confiscated on arrival, I was only allowed to come straight to you with a generous frisk and the clothes on my back. I’m sure your security teams have thoroughly examined the entire contents of my work bag.”
“And put a keystroke tracker on your computer,” he speculated.
“Well one can’t admit a member of the Press to His Majesty’s private office without ensuring they don’t reveal the Crown’s greatest secrets,” she teased. Then she lifted a very official looking piece of paper and waved it. “I got your press release hand delivered to me.”
“Ooh,” he grinned, “I suppose there are benefits to being the King’s best friend.”
She snorted, “Hardly, I’m sure everyone else got it emailed straight to their inbox in the ten minutes it took them to print it out and walk down the hall with it. At least I get bragging rights that I was able to write my article in His Majesty’s very presence.”
“You were never here, Pen,” he warned.
She made a humming sound in disappointment but dutifully said, “Yes, I know.” She typed out a few more lines then asked distractedly, “How did it all go anyway?”
“Off the record?” he teased, and she looked up from her screen and glared at him mockingly. “Well, I think. Danbury seemed happy, Benedict gave his big goodbye speech that’ll air tomorrow morning”
“Ten o’clock?” she guessed, and he nodded. “What are you going to do?”
“We’ve got to go to parliament and do lots of very boring official things,” he sighed, “Mercifully the team will keep me right and I don’t actually need to remember everything straight off the bat.”
“But you will,” she said assuredly before turning back to her screen. He smiled softly because she was right. He’d already memorised the schedule despite only seeing it once. He hadn’t lied to Danbury; he was determined to take this seriously now that he’d got his head on straight. He just hoped he could actually keep up with his good intentions.