Summary: King George III wonders what went wrong. OneShot.

I honestly don’t understand what I did wrong!

I did my best, I really did. But somewhere I made a mistake, and it led to more mistakes, and before I knew what had happened, I had declared peace and had lost the Americans.

I was a child once, a very timid child at that. I had blushed easily, my toes turned in, and my teachers constantly nagged me about being lazy.

Everyone told me that I could not be this way. They told me to straiten my toes, do my studies, and act like a king.

At the time I really did not want to be a king, I just wanted to be a kid. But I never could. I had to stay inside with my brother Edward, learning Latin. Hours after hours I had to translate Cesar’s texts into English. I despised it. So on a day I was particularly angry, I wrote down “Mr. Cesar, I hope you go to the devil” in French.

I was so young when my father died, about twelve years old. From then on my grandfather, George II looked after me. I missed my father, but I also dearly love my mother and grandfather. I had to carry on for their sakes.

I found myself growing into becoming a king. But I was never prepared for the day my grandfather died. I was twenty-two years old, on my way out for my morning ride. A messenger had came up to me and told me that the king had stood up that morning, went to get dressed, but suddenly stopped and fell over, dead. I was so saddened, so depressed. I lost my beloved grandfather.

I was now a king, King George III.

I vowed that day to be a father to my people, someone people could trust. But a king needs a queen. I would not be crowned without one. Soon I found the perfect one, Princess Charlotte of Germany. It really was a perfect match.

I believed for the longest time I was doing good. I never believed there would be an uprising in the Colonies.

I was first angry that my people would betray me. Then I was surprised that they keep going, and saddened that I was forced into peace.

Now I’m depressed, I will never see my beloved Colonies again.

I so badly wanted to be a good king; I wanted it more than anything else in the entire world.

I have been thinking, perhaps I will give up my crown. What is the point? Why bother. I don’t care what the people of England tell me, I’m a bad king.

Tears fall down my cheeks, and I don’t care who will see. I don’t want to be king anymore. I’ll give the crown to my son.

At that moment one of my servants comes into my chambers.

“My lord,” he says, “a message from King Louis XVI of France. It’s very urgent.”

“Thank you” I say, waving him out, trying not to show any emotion in my voice.

I really pity Louis, even though he was against me. His people are rioting now, too. It really looks bad. I hope it does not result in another war. I’ll admit that I believed that he deserved it at first, but now I realize how serious it truly has become.

“Heavens, what shall I do Lord?” I ask aloud. “Guide me.”

I must go on, no matter how hard it becomes.

Please America, remember me for the good things I tried to accomplish, not the horrible mistakes I made during the Revolution.

I truly meant well.

Fin