For a moment, she gave really letting out that pent-up sigh a serious consideration. She was sure it would be a very drawn-out, exasperated one, unbefitting of a royal lady. But that'd probably be the easiest way to get him to understand that she would not budge from the threshold.

This might be their home—and it would always please her to think of it as such—but the kitchen is hers when she's there.

George knew the Commander didn't mean ill when he said he would prepare dinner as they drove home. She knew he was only being considerate because she had just returned from a rather long mission.

But she, the Knight Commander of the Royal Navy, was proud of her dutiful self—and to her, as mundane as it seemed, preparing dinner was also one of her duties, equal in importance to fighting.

"Come on, George. You haven't even sat down. Surely you're tired?"

"Why yes, dear, I'm tired. But there's a task I need to accomplish—surely you're aware of that?"

"...Yes, I do."

"Then you can wait at the table. Dinner will be ready soon," George said, feeling rather triumphant in her confidence the Commander would give up soon. The way he wavered told her so. And besides, he looked just as frazzled.

But she was apparently mistaken. Just like her stubbornly blocking the path to the kitchen, the Commander remained there.

"...If that's what you want, I won't stop you. But at least...let me help? Please?"

George finally let out the sigh for real. It wasn't as drawn-out as expected nor exasperated. Instead, she would say it was tinged with some kind of fondness, short and sweet. Indeed, nobody else had the privilege to see him with such an expression. And the first time she did—when he got on one knee and revealed the ring she now happily wore—she learned she would never be able to say no to that face, then and now—the only circumstance where she would relinquish her pride without regret.

"Very well, dear. I suppose we could."


As George put on the apron, she made a note of how warm the Commander's smile was as he did the same.

She hummed her approval and went to the fridge to check the ingredients. She was satisfied to see it well-stocked and everything was fresh, indicating they had been bought recently. The Commander might not stay at their home much when she's away, but he would never let the fridge go empty for her sake.

She had planned something a bit fancy, but when her eyes landed on certain ingredients, that plan was quickly dashed.

Soon, there was an immaculate arrangement of ground beef, chuck steaks, onions, potatoes, eggs—and all other assortments needed to make the two dishes she knew well and fondly remembered—on the table.

"...Curry and hamburger, huh?"

"Oh yes. I'm feeling like making those. Or do you have something else in mind?" George inquired. The Commander was now looking at her intently, and she understood why. It was a pleasant feeling.

"Oh, no. Curry and hamburger are fine."

"Well then, let's get started, shall we?"


Long had passed since she last saw him doing it, but George noted, as her furtive glimpse at him chopping vegetables could show, that the Commander still knew how to handle a knife—even if his motions were fraught with peril. It still made her wince inside a little to see how often he came close to cutting his own fingers—but like the last time, he seemed obliviously focused on anything but the task at hand.

"You know...thank you for letting me help you, George."

George, who was about to crack eggs to add to the mix of beef and onions, stopped. The Commander was smiling at her as he spoke, wisely pausing what he was doing.

"I'm glad I did, dear," George watched as the egg whites and yolk poured into the bowl. She scooped a handful of the mixture and began kneading.

"Even though I also feel bad for, you know, intruding upon your kingdom."

There was yet another pause as George turned to the Commander.

"'My 'kingdom?' Care to explain that?"

His laugh was airy, not something someone who actually feels guilty would give—if they would laugh at all. But it was sweet and entertaining, and George didn't care about his so-called transgression. His playful yet oblique reference to this kitchen, though, warranted questioning.

"Because you won't allow anyone to use it when you're here? It's like your personal domain. Of course, saying the kitchen is a woman's domain is dated these days...but really, I won't be surprised if you think of this place as that. I don't mind, either."

George's own laugh, which she couldn't help but set free, was similarly lighthearted. She continued kneading the meat into thick patties with the occasional titters—which, while a little embarrassing, did not hinder her at all. If any, it allowed her to coast through the job.

"Oh dear, you and your flight of fancy. Rather than a kingdom, I'd say this is...a sanctuary. A place where I can be at ease and find myself amid the chaos. That's why I'd often consider it a personal space," George remarked, putting the last patty into the tray just as the distinct aroma of spices for curry roux entered her nose.

"Your sanctuary. Now that makes sense—why did you look so peaceful."

George shook her head as she approached the Commander and brought a hand to his cheek. She had shown him such a display of affection before—when she could afford to forgo decorum. And even now, she would still be amused by the face he was making—looking as though it was the first time she had done so.

"Our sanctuary, dear."

"Ours...?"

"I enjoyed our time cooking together. And I'm glad you asked," George said, chuckling when she realized she had neglected to wash her hands, leaving a smidge of meaty paste on the Commander's face. Must've caught up in the moment, she reasoned—but once in a while, it's fine to slip up.

"Really now? You enjoyed it?" the Commander laughed along. There was no doubt nor misguided modesty in his response—just pure glee, and George was thankful even more for it.

"I did, and I wanted to thank you for it."

"Ah...Ahahaha. I feel the same, you know? I enjoyed cooking with you, and I had half a mind to just take my time preparing these dishes."

"I would do the same if I'm not so famished," George placed the skillet on the stove and poured oil into it. "But I am, and these dishes won't prepare themselves."

"Ah, you're right."


"So, how's the curry?"

The Commander didn't sound wary or expectant as he asked. But, of course, George mused. He had made the dish plenty of times—by his own admission, a spell in Yokosuka made him so fond of it—so there's no reason to sound like a first-time cook.

"So thoroughly good, dear. Like always," George said, and he was happy. "And how's the hamburger steak?"

"Perfectly juicy. And this demi-glace too...yeah, they're perfect."

She, too, was happy.

Their little feast was far from lavish, barring the presence of the wine that nobody was sure would pair well with the dishes. But as he once said—what they were having, simple to prepare and utterly free of pretension, represents every little thing that is big-hearted inside, even when there's little to them on the surface.

She was the only one who didn't laugh when she heard it.

"Did you remember something funny? You're nearly breaking into a grin, there," the Commander asked. He had finished his serving of hamburger steak and was now eating the curry, looking rather self-satisfied.

"Oh...no. I'm just...happy we're eating together again. Dining by my lonesome is difficult, you know?"

"I know exactly how you feel because I can't stand eating alone either...and I'm happy because I could share meals with you again. But while I appreciate it, I'm curious why you picked curry and hamburgers."

"Ah..." George knew she was flushed even when she had not yet had her glass of wine. She had hoped he would ask, but thinking about what she was about to say still got her flustered somehow. But she's the earnest, straightforward King George V—and she would damn well let him know.

"Because I was thinking about you. About the first time you made them for me...and how, simple as they were, I...somehow found myself drawn to them...or perhaps, the feelings lying behind it? Watching you prepare them for me brought me great joy."

"Oh...wow...I didn't expect to hear this," the Commander coughed and had a sip from his glass. "But...no surprise, George. Despite appearances and your position, you've always cherished simple things more. As you say, your greatest joys in life are fighting and eating and nothing else."

George liked the way he put it, even though she felt it would be more accurate to say her greatest joys in life are fighting and eating with him. But the Commander would've known about it already.

But she, without question, loved the simple things. She loved how even now, her man would only know how to make those two dishes. She loved how she didn't mind that. She loved watching him eat—even more when he asked for seconds like he just did. She loved how she could ask for a second—or third—helping herself without anyone judging. She loved how life could be so simple yet blissful.

She wouldn't have it any other way.