Hey everyone! This is my first King's Speech fanfic so I hope it's good! :-)

Title: A Day In Buckingham.

Summary: Following Bertie's POV from a day in the Buckingham palace, dealing with his unfriendly father, his overprotective mother and his mean brother David, and his other siblings Vicky, Henry, George, and his ill brother John, facing all this being just ten years old and with stammer on his side.

Note: I tried to research their ages accurately, and all the differences I got (respectively from Bertie) got me to his siblings' age when he was ten. David would be 11 (being one year older), Victoria would be 8 (two years younger), John would be 6 (being four years younger), Henry would be 5 (being five years younger), and George would be 2 (eight years younger). It would be set in 1905.

Lionel Logue placed a cup of tea on Bertie's hands.

"Do not worry, Bertie," he told him, mother-likely. "It's not wrong to feel that way. Everything is rushing too much. Your brother's abdication is not doing any good to your stammer. Would you like to practice some breathing exercises?"

"I-I'd like to t-tell you a s-story," Bertie said, stammering a little.

Lionel looked at him cocking his head questioningly, "It's not very proper of you to want to tell me stories. But well, start off."

"It-It's about me, w-when I was only ten y-years old," Bertie explained.

Lionel nodded, encouraging him to talk, "Go on with it."

Bertie took a deep breath and started.

Bertie's POV, telling the story

I knew I wasn't an average boy, even though I didn't have many friends by that time. The only kids I knew where my siblings and government highnesses' children, who were mostly mean brats who always picked on my for my stammer. Of all the fears a ten-year-old could have, I had the most peculiar one: talking. Most children my age would fear ghosts, monsters under their beds, darkness or fire. None of these could be compared to my own fear of being ridiculed by everyone if I ever opened my mouth. I would stammer over my own words without knowing what to say or what to do, so I just ducked my head and ran away if I ever met strangers. Father didn't approve my attitude, he said I was being childish and ungentlemanly. Mother didn't approve it, either, but understood why I did so. My younger siblings wouldn't understand why I scarcely talked to them, and David would just mock me calling me 'B-B-B-Bertie'. The only person in the palace I could talk to without feeling rejected or laughed at was my younger brother John.

John suffered from epilepsy, and died at age thirteen. He was one of the royal family's little secrets. Scarcely anyone knew about him. They had little John excluded in a room in the palace. They wouldn't let him go outside, and his nannies would go to feed him inside his room. Everyone in Buckingham seemed to hate little John, or disliked him to say the least. Although he was really young when I was ten years old, I enjoyed his company because he was the only person not to make me feel wrong. I guess we were just similar after all.

I always felt sad when I woke up in my fluffy bed. My room was big and light, I had all the toys a child my age could wish for. But it remembered me of my brother David, who would be waiting for me in our dining room, and of my parents, who would be far too busy to take care of us.

"Come on, Bertie, it's time to meet David in the dining room," my nanny, Caitlyn, told me.

I nodded as I jumped off my bed. She dressed me up in a white shirt and suspender pants, and took me over to the dining room, where my older brother and younger sister were waiting for me. Henry and George were too young to join us in breakfast. They had their own nannies to take care of them, same happening to John.

"Good m-morning," I murmured as I sat down in my chair.

"How did you sleep, B-B-Bertie?" David chuckled as the maids placed an egg and bacon platter in front of me.

I looked at him sheepishly, "F-fine."

Victoria looked at me with a bored expression, "Really. You could try and talk better. I hate it when father starts yelling."

"Do you think I like talking this way?" I burst out, glaring at my younger sister. I stuffed a bacon strip in my mouth and gazed down, breathing heavily.

My both siblings looked at me, startled. David started eating silently, deciding it was not the moment to tease me. But my sister pointed out in a whisper, "You didn't stammer."

I looked up at her with watery eyes, and shook my head, "Not when I'm angry."

Vicky looked at me, pondering what she was going to say, but finally gazed down at her platter and started eating.

After breakfast, I decided to visit John for a while. He would be in his room, as always, playing with his toys and with the only company of his fearful nanny, Lala. I knocked the door slowly.

"Come in," Lala's faint voice whispered.

I opened the mahogany door and saw my little brother laying in his bed. He seemed really tired, but smiled joyfully when he saw me.

"Bertie!" he cried.

"Sir, your brother is feeling really tired," Lala advised. "He didn't have a good night. His seizures have been frequent and even Her Majesty the Queen had to come in the middle of the night to visit him."

"I w-want to t-talk w-with him," I explained to the nanny.

"Sir, I would highly recommend you to come later..." she started.

"I w-want to t-talk w-with him now," I insisted.

Lala sighed, "Very well then, sir. But please don't bother him much."

"I will not," I assured.

I took a chair from John's desk and sat by his bed, where he smiled.

"Hi, Bertie," my little brother greeted me, smiling.

"Hello John," I answered. I looked at Lala, "Lala... c-could you go out f-for a s-second?"

"I don't think I should, sir," Lala started. "Your brother could..."

"We will be fine," I assured, "p-please, Lala."

The nanny did a sigh, but went outside the room, leaving me and my younger brother by ourselves.

"Are you okay, Bertie?" John asked. Truth be told, he was really smart for his age. Were it not for his epilepsy, he could have certainly become a great man. He could sense my feelings. I guess he was the only boy he'd ever met. He never saw David, Vicky, George or Henry, but I tended to visit him when I was in my lows, or simply needed someone to talk to. He never pointed out my stammer, which kind of made me feel well, like a normal boy. I knew he did feel better too when I visited. Even though he was very young, he could notice his other siblings' displeasure against him. I think that's why he was so joyous and cheerful when I went to visit him.

"Not really," I answered, shrugging my shoulders. "Same than always. Creighton is ill, so I'm not receiving any lessons today. I guess it's just free day."

"You are lucky," John commented, peering through the window. "Really lucky."

I stood up and looked through the window, seeing the same than my little brother. He was looking at Mother, who was strolling Henry through the castle's gardens. She had Henry taking her hand, the young toddler sometimes pulling faces at his baby brother.

"Mother never took me outside," John said in a whisper. "At least not as often as she does with Henry and George. I've always been here, inside these four walls. I sometimes think it's only you and Lala who care about me."

"D-don't say that, J-John," I answered. "Y-you know everyone h-here loves y-you. E-even F-father."

John turned to face me, "Do you think so? Do you really think Father does love me?"

I nodded vigorously, although I didn't know what to think. Sometimes Father could be so harsh at me...I knew all he wanted was to watch me become a man, but his pressure was a lot to take. But I certainly didn't think it was the same with John. Little did I know about epilepsy by those times, but I still knew it was a serious illness. I rarely saw him coming into John's room, so rarely I couldn't even recall the last time I'd seen him there. A year ago? Maybe two? The truth was I didn't know.

"We are different to our brothers and sister," John sighed, sitting back on his bed.

"Don't say that, John," I said firmly. "W-we are not d-diferent."

Just a second later, Lala opened the room door and said, "Sir, lunch is ready."

"Thank you, Lala," I said, standing up. I turned to my brother, "Bye, John. I hope you have a good day."

"Bye, Bertie," he answered, smiling sadly.

I walked to the lunch room, where David and Vicky would be waiting for me, thinking about what John had said. But the words flew away like soap bubbles in the wind.

"David, look at this!" Henry cried, running into the sitting room. David and I were both there, reading a book Mother had given us. My brother looked up to see a new football in the hands of my grinning little brother.

"Wow, Henry!" David cried, looking at the ball. "Where did you get it from?"

"One of the nannies told me she had found it in the attic," the toddler explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Let's go to the gardens and play with it!" David suggested, bolting up from his seat.

"Yes!" Henry cried excitingly, handing David the ball.

I looked at both of them as they left the room. Just a second before he closed the door, Henry's five-year-old face peered inside and asked, "Do you want to come too, Bertie?"

"I don't think our little B-B-Bertie has any football skills whatsoever," David laughed meanly.

Ignoring my older brother's comment, I smiled sheepishly at my little brother, "I don't r-really think I w-would-"

Henry ran up to me and started pulling my arm, "Come on Bertie, it will be fun!"

I did a sigh, but smiled, "Okay."

"Yes!" Henry cried once more as he dragged me down to the gardens. I could feel David's tense glare behind me, but I didn't really care about it. I just smiled pleasantly at Henry.

Once we arrived to the gardens, David left the football in the grass and told me, "Let's see what you can do, B-B-B-Bertie."

I took the ball with my foot and started kicking it up to the air, hitting it with my knee and sometimes with my head, but mostly with my foot. I started running through the garden, playing with the ball happily and then tried to shot a goal between two trees. It flew in perfectly. I ran to where the ball had landed and ran back to my siblings. Henry had watched me with his jaw dropped and an idolized expression in his toddler features. David just glared at me with his brow furrowed, as whenever I did something well.

"You were so cool there, Bertie!" Henry exclaimed cheerfully. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

I smiled sheepishly and nodded. As my toddler brother started kicking the ball, I noted, "T-try and k-kick it a little s-softer. I-It's easier if y-you have c-control of it."

The afternoon went on, and I could pleasantly see how jealous was David becoming of me right then. He always saw me as a weak, stupid child, and now I had just proved him I was worth some respect, even if he didn't admit it right then.

"Hey Bertie, let's play a little match!" Henry exclaimed. "Will you be the goalkeeper?"

I nodded, and walked to the middle of the two trees. As my toddler brother started aiming, I looked away to John's window. I could see him staring at us sadly, tears filling his watery blue eyes. I had forgotten about him now Henry had started to idolize me as a football player. I was so distracted in my own thoughts I didn't notice the ball passing sharply by my shoulder, and flying between the two trees.

"I scored a goal!" Henry cried happily. "I did it!"

I smiled weakly, "Well done, Henry."

I looked back at John's window. He still stared at me, accusing me with his eyes. I looked at David and cried, "D-David, I t-think we s-should get J-John in."

My brother looked at me as if I had just turned crazy, "The epileptic boy? No thank you!"

"He's not the epileptic boy, you idiot!" I cried furiously. "He's just another of your brothers!"

David watched me in silence, and so did Henry. Maybe he had been surprised I hadn't stammered a single letter. I looked back at John's window and signaled him to come to the garden. As I saw a grin broadening in his face, he ran to the door, probably to tell Lala about it. A second later, the nanny came to the window with an angry expression. I signaled him to come, insisted. She did a sigh and took John's hand. A minute later, my brother came to the gardens, smiling. He had been through one of his seizures, so his face was quite reddened.

Lala came to me and started, "Sir, your brother's health is really precarious. He should not play, at least not these ball games."

"He can do it," I stated firmly. Then I signaled John to come.

"Who is he?" Henry whispered to David.

"He's John, our brother," David answered. "You'd rather not get too close to him. He's ill. It might be contagious."

"Come here, Henry," I told my toddler brother, against David's words. "Do you boys want to play football?"

Henry nodded shyly, but backed away, "David told me not to get too close to him," he pointed at John with disgust.

"I don't care what David said!" I exclaimed angrily. "John is your brother, and if there's any brains in there, you will play with him!"

Henry gulped, but nodded as he came closer, handing me the ball. I turned to John, "Now John, y-you have t-to know the f-football rules. Y-you have to hit the b-ball gently with y-your feet, but n-not with your hands. Understood?" My brother nodded. "As to get s-started, y-you could p-pace a little t-through the garden, k-kicking the ball."

John looked at the football suspiciously, as if it were to bite him, but after a few seconds of awkward silence, he took the ball and started kicking it gently. He started walking up and down slowly, the ball between his two feet.

"G-great job, John!" I cried, encouraging him to keep on. He smiled at me, and started walking a little faster. As he sped up, he started kicking the ball more confidently, and ultimately he could be seen running up and down the gardens, grinning.

"I'm doing it, Bertie!" he cried. "I'm playing!"

"You are..." I whispered, smiling to myself.

"Hey!" Henry cried. "Let's play all together!"

John came to us, handing Henry the ball. We started playing. Even David seemed to be having fun. He tried to score a goal once or twice, but I always stopped the ball. If he felt annoyed, he didn't show it at all. However, John was just the star of the day. He was a great football player, and I could notice Lala looking at us with a pleased smile.

Just as I saw John go through his epilepsy and play with us, I promised myself someday I would go through my stammer too.

Finished! :) Hope you liked that! Remember: New King's Speech fics will come, so stay tuned if you liked this one! Cheers,

-Nikki :)