Above all else, Bertie wanted to do right by his country. The people of Britain deserved to be ruled by a monarch that made wise decisions and by someone who could articulate their plans of action. He knew the first and second parts would be easier to bear, especially with such advisers as Chamberlain and Churchill. It was the eloquence part he had infinite difficulties with.
Lionel prompted him to continue trying with an elegant hand gesture.
He held his speech in front of him and tried to recite the words as best he could.
"And so, citizens of Britain," he read carefully, "it is w-with re-regret that I m-must-Damn it!"
He tossed the papers down on the seat next time and stood up angrily. He fumbled around in his pockets, looking for his cigarettes, only to remember that Lionel had confiscated them when he had arrived for his afternoon session.
"P-please give me my-my cigarettes."
He held out his hand to receive them.
Lionel stood and kindly denied the king, reminding him of their hideous side-effects.
"They'll only make you cough. It will only make the lessons more difficult."
Bertie balled his hands into fists as he tried to rein in his bubbling anger and frustration. He knew Lionel was right. Of course he was. But that bloody well didn't mean anything when all he wanted was one of them!
He stood up straighter.
"I am demanding tha-that you g-give me them back-ck now."
A king must always remain calm, no matter the circumstances. He tried to take unnoticeable deep breaths.
Lionel answered simply, "No."
And suddenly, the King of England lunged for him, pinning him to the wall of the therapy room. The much younger man, the Royal Navy trained man, had no problem holding the slightly older one in place. Lionel tried to appear unfazed, but a bit of surprise crept through. It was not every day that this reserved prince-turned-king showed such violent emotion.
Bertie looked into his eyes intensely before losing his nerve.
"Why a-are you making things d-difficult?" Bertie asked disparagingly, "Can-can't you see I've suffered enough today?"
He dropped his head down in defeat, easing up his grip on Lionel's shoulders.
Lionel's gentle hand lifted up the poor monarch's chin. With the pout the king was sporting, he was almost willing to hand over the deadly things to him.
"Yes you have. Shall I put on some tea before you go?"
But instead of answering, Bertie drew his friend closer and pressed their lips together tentatively. It seemed as though the king was full of surprises today. Bertie pulled away slowly; he released the doctor from his grasp.
"Is it proper etiquette to thank a royal after one bestows a kiss on you?" Lionel asked ruefully, pulling a smile from Bertie.
"O-only i-if one enj-j-joys it."
"Then perhaps thanks are in order."
***
Elizabeth greeted her husband when he returned home from his therapy session.
"Did everything go well this afternoon, darling?"
Bertie smiled again at the memory.
"Y-yes. Although, I did get a b-bit tongue-tied at one p-point."
"Perhaps that will improve after your next lesson," she encouraged.
She kissed his cheek.
"Hopefully it shall only get worse," Bertie thought to himself, escorting his lovely wife to the dining room for dinner.