#hamilton reader insert

“I haven’t given her much attention ever since this case came, and I’m sure Eliza’s in the same situation. Our own partners deserve to be pampered after all of this, don’t you think?”

“My Eliza’s fine-”

“Hamilton.”

You crossed your arms and raised a brow at your friend. “Let Eliza share the victory with you, I’m sure she’d be thrilled to listen about how your hard work paid off,” you reasoned out. “And besides, it’s the closest I’ll get to apologizing for stealing you away from her for months.” Alexander laughed at that, getting your point. He pulled out his phone, most likely to share the great news to his fiancé.

“Let’s have the big celebration next weekend, yeah?”

You could tell from the eagerness in his voice that he was excited to come home and spend time with Eliza. “Perfect,” you agreed. You were about to bid farewell, but Alexander was already in call with Eliza and chatting away with unprecedented joy. You chuckled at him and went to your car, dialing a number while you started the engine. It rang a few times before it was picked up.

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Washington! Is Maria Reynolds still at work?”

“Oh, Miss Y/N! It’s always a pleasure to talk to you.”

You smiled at this. Martha had always been a caring boss, which is why you recommended Maria to her business when she was looking for a new job. You placed your phone on the holder at the dashboard and set it to speaker while you pulled out of the parking lot. “Maria’s still here, why’d you ask?” Martha asked sweetly. Your smile grew into a more excited one, your plans already playing out in your mind.

“Well you see, I plan to surprise her tonight with her favorite food because I won what probably is my biggest case to date.” Martha gasped and gave you a quick congratulations. “But I still have to buy the things I need. Can you stall her for me? I just need an extra two hours.”

There was a thoughtful pause at the other end of the line. You took your eyes off the road for a split second to check if the call was still ongoing, which it was. “Dear, as romantic as your plan sounds, I don’t think Maria would like being cooped up here for so long,” Martha sighed. “She’s been stressed for the past months, and I don’t think she’s taking your disappearance so well lately, to top off the work she needs to finish today...” Your heart sank at the information. Yes, you were more than aware that you’d been neglecting Maria over the case, more than you’d like, and even if she was understanding enough that you needed to prioritize your slowly rising career, you knew there were unavoidable insecurities that followed her wake.

“I’m going to make it up to her,” you replied, voice steady. “I’m going to smother her with attention for the weeks to come ‘til she gets sick of me.”

Martha laughed heartily at your determination. “So please, can you help me out and give me two hours? I promise It’ll all be worth it,” you pleaded. It didn’t take as long for Martha to answer. “Okay, but I want to see Maria coming to work next Tuesday with an honest smile. I miss seeing her so positive.” You beamed gratefully, even though she couldn’t see it. “You’re giving her a long weekend off?” you asked almost too happily.

“Aside from letting her spend time with her favorite woman, I’m sure she deserves the rest for working so hard the past months.”

“Oh Martha, thank you so much! I owe you a lot.”

Any semblance of formalities melted away. “Oh dear, you know I’m a sucker for romantic gestures! I’ll make sure she tells me everything about your night when she gets back to work,” she teased. You giggled, excitement crawling up your body by the minute. You ended the call and finished your groceries as fast as you could, and by the time you got back to your shared apartment the sun was just starting to set. Perfect, you thought. You had more time than anticipated, but you were sure to utilize every second and got to work.

After a dragging day at work, Maria finally found her way back home. She was stuck in the office for a good two hours past her supposed time out due to Martha’s unexpected request to finish some extra paperwork. She would’ve declined it, but the offer of getting a paid day off in return was too good to miss out that even an extra hour long traffic didn’t stop her. She was far too exhausted, both mental and physical, to think of anything else but to crash into the soft sheets of her bed despite her empty stomach begging to be filled up. When she got to her apartment’s door, however, she couldn’t help but stop and look at it.

She didn’t know that today was the day you’d bring the case to the court one last time for a verdict, so all she expected was to come home to an empty apartment, and despite everything still in the same place it felt more barren the past few months. And yet, as she unlocked the door and flicked the lights on, she was greeted with not only a noticeably cleaner living room but also a delectable smell wafting through her nose. It caused her stomach to growl again, and with the new smell filling the place she dropped her bag and headed to the kitchen.

“You’re home!”

Maria’s eyes popped out at the sight. There you were in your sweatpants and loose shirt, sitting across the table with your hand resting atop your intertwined fingers. A large grin splayed across your face, which grew even wider at the sight of her. The table was set up with two plates, a bottle of wine and whiskey (a strange combo, Maria thought), about three dishes, and a bowl of soup accompanied by a smaller bowl of croutons. The food before her was definitely made presentable, and if Maria wasn’t too occupied gawking (and maybe drooling a little) she would’ve pointed out how your outfit didn’t even match up to the setting.

“We won the case,” you told her, your voice laced with softness and excitement.

Maria had to compose herself just enough to answer. “Really?” she squeaked out. She was happy beyond words, both for your success and you finally being there to greet her home for once and having done this seemingly large dinner after months of surviving on leftovers in the fridge and take-outs. You nodded, watching her expression with a smile, but it quickly dropped when you saw her starting to cry. Alarmed, you got off your seat and pulled her to a tight embrace, to which she eagerly returned, taking in the faint scent of the soap you used for your bath. You planted a long kiss on the crown of her head, and the gesture only seemed to make her cry more.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

And there she poured everything out. She missed coming home to your arms every night, but ever since the case you were always either gone in the office at work or holed up in the one at home. The thought made her disappointed, and maybe with a twinge of anger and paranoia, but she had to hold it back. She knew how much work meant to you, and she admired how passionate you were for it. She tried her best not to think too much of it, but the fear of you growing cold towards her scared her to no end, admitting that the effects of her past relationship with James was still affecting her.

You didn’t speak the whole time and let Maria vent it out until she reduced into quiet sobs. You kissed her forehead before pulling away from the hug so you could meet her eye to eye. “I know I’ve been so busy, which is why I’m going to make up for it,” you whispered soothingly. You cupped her face and gently wiped the tears away with your thumbs, and you could see a smile slowly grace her lips that made your heart melt. You then peppered her with short, sweet kisses all over her face, which made her giggle and squirm.

“I missed you so much, Y/N.”

“I missed you too, but I’m not going to let you have dinner with such an uncomfortable outfit.”

Maria followed your eyes to her office attire. “I drew you a hot bath just a few minutes ago, with lots of lavender from our mini garden,” you told her softly, pulling her by the waist and kissing her cheek. Gosh, you missed her so much. Maria sighed as you nuzzled your face on the crook of her neck, already imagining the beautiful smell of the bathroom awaiting her. Unfortunately, she had to pull away from the hug so she could actually get there.

After Maria took her time in a relaxing bath and changed to her own comfortable clothes, you two spent the night together, savoring the full course dinner you made with both of your favorite foods and hers, then surprising her with strawberry mousse, her favorite, for dessert. After that, and an empty bottle of wine, you two went to the couch to cuddle and watch a movie together. Though the film on the television was soon forgotten when you kept on showering Maria with kisses and compliments. Even if she asked you to stop since she genuinely wanted to watch the movie, you only replied to her with,

“Nah, I’m going to spoil you the whole weekend, and for the following weeks to come.”

And you did just that. Your attention was all on Maria day and night, and her heart could never feel so full at the sight of you. You took care of her and she took care of you, too. Of course you respected her boundaries and remained gentle with how you held her, but she knew that with you she was safe. Her initial fears of abandonment were soon thrown out the window. Maria trusted you more than ever, and you made sure to show her that she would never regret that choice.

Maria sighed wistfully, stroking your hair as she stared at the wall. The heavy drapes were drawn shut, preventing the moonlight from entering the dark bedroom. You were nestled on her bare chest, sleeping soundly while you had your arms wrapped protectively around her waist. A smile adorned your lips, and Maria took notice of it when she looked down at you.

You were at peace, contrast to the tired and frustrated expression you constantly seemed to wear while you were working the past months. Your breaths were slow and relaxed, making Maria hold a smile of her own as she studied your features. She brought a hand to your face, and you subconsciously leaned against her touch. She caressed your cheek with a thumb, her gaze trailing over to the bags under your eyes. Without your makeup, it looked much worse, but Maria didn’t care. She loved everything about you, even those eyebags that carried all the success you worked for, and she never felt luckier for having such a caring and passionate girlfriend as you.

“Oh Y/N,” Maria sighed for the nth time that night. “I didn’t think love existed until I started loving you.”

You barely stifled your amused chuckle, making Maria jump slightly at the vibration. “I’m glad to be the one to make you realize that,” you murmured, opening your eyes and ignoring the noise of surprise that she made when you let it be known that you were still awake. You shifted so that you could fully look at Maria. It was dark, but you could still make out her wide eyes that slowly softened. Her hand was still pressed to your face, so you put your own on top of it and moved to gently kiss her palm.

“And you deserve every bit of love, sweetheart.”

The way you said it so sincerely just made Maria absolutely melt, even more so when you pulled up to give her a long, tender kiss. Her hands wandered you, fingers trailing the marks she left on your skin before a hand made its way to your bare back while the other tangled on your already messy hair. When you backed away to breathe, you gave Maria one last peck on the lips before lying on her side and pulling her close.

“You know babe, seeing you like this makes me want to look forward to more of your difficult cases.” Maria laughed when you tiredly groaned in annoyance.

For a moment, you were silent. Then the words seemed to burst a floodgate inside you and you were crying and mostly incoherently trying to tell your mother everything. She let you talk, wordlessly passing you a tissue when you needed one and sipping at her coffee.

“It sounds to me,” she said gently when you’d finished and were wiping the last of your tears away, “like you’re at least a little bit in love with him.” You opened your mouth to protest but no words came. Miserably, you nodded and buried your face in her shoulder.

“I let your father get away,” your mother began, hugging you tightly, “and it was the biggest mistake I ever made.” She sat you up again and held your hands tightly, looking earnestly into your eyes. “Don’t make my mistakes, Y/N.”

--

Lin was hopelessly lost. He wouldn’t have thought it possible on an island this small, but though he could see the sea, he had no idea how to get back to the castle. Heading to the top of a hill, he spotted a small cottage with a thatched roof and, relieved, started down towards it.

An old woman answered the door, face splitting into a grin when she met his eyes. She turned back into the house and beckoned for someone. Great, Lin thought, I’ve been recognised. A second old lady joined the first in the doorway, looking equally happy to see him.

“Hello,” Lin put on his best friendly smile, “I was wondering if you could point me towards the castle?”

The first lady, her greying hair in a plait over her shoulder, took his hand and lead him into the cottage. It was homey and comfortable in a way unique to grandmothers, the ceiling was low and the wallpaper faded to pastels. The second lady- her wife, if the wedding bands on their arthritic fingers were anything to go by- reappeared with a set of bagpipes and looked beseechingly at Lin.

He must have looked confused because she handed him the bagpipes and retrieved an old vinyl from the coffee table. She held it up to show a man playing the bagpipes, who bore no resemblance to Lin beyond his haircut and the fact that Lin seemed to be wearing the same hideous tartan trousers as him.

“Oh no,” he shook his head, “that’s not me.” The ladies continued to smile at him, and he wondered if they were hard of hearing. “It’s not me,” he repeated, a little louder.

It didn’t seem to be working so, resigned, he did his best to arrange the bagpipes into what he thought was the right position. He spread the drones across his shoulder, holding the chanter between his lips and used his free right hand to hold the bag in place. Taking a deep breath, he blew.

A horrible and hoarse squeaking sound came out of the pipes and Lin winced. He tried again, to the same results. The ladies didn’t seem to have noticed and were swaying together in the middle of the room, hand in hand. “They’re deaf,” he realised, watching their soft smiles, “completely deaf.”

--

You headed out from the B&B, waving goodbye to your mother. She’d insisted on packing you provisions and lending you her phone, since yours was resting in a bag of rice after its dive into the castle moat, though you’d doubted you’d need it.

The issue, you knew, was where to find Lin. As you headed across the damp grassy meadow, you reasoned that you knew he’d be heading towards the castle as best he could, so you only had to get there and you should run into him. As you reached the edge of beach, you heard a terrible wheezing, honking sound from over the hill.

“Bagpipes?” you thought aloud, frowning. The only people around here were the MacLeods, but they were both deaf… You started towards their cottage, fighting the urge to cover your ears at the racket.

At the cottage, you looked through the open window to see Mrs and Mrs MacLeod happily dancing together, oblivious to the horrible sounds of none other than Lin puffing at their old bagpipes. You grinned and gently pushed open the door.

Mrs and Mrs MacLeod broke apart when they spotted you in the doorway, waving. Your sign language was a little rusty, but you managed to remember enough to say hello and, once they’d signed back their happiness to see you again after so long away, you motion to Lin and asked to borrow him.

Lin handed back the bagpipes, shook Mrs and Mrs Macleods’ hands, and followed you out of the door. “I know you’re angry,” you said as the two of you left the cottage behind you, “but we’ve got to fix this and I swear to you that I had no idea what my mum was doing.”

--

The vicar lived beside the church, his little cottage tucked in against the stone walls of the chapel. He answered the door clearly fresh from the parsonage garden, mud on his bottle-green wellies and his wispy white hair plastered to his forehead.

“Y/N,” he smiled, opening the door wide, “what can I do for you today?”

“It’s a long story, vicar,” you told him as you and Lin took a seat on his battered sofa, “but I need to know if you can annul my marriage from this morning.”

Thankfully, the vicar was well-versed in his law, and he headed straight for one of the oak bookcases that lined the walls of the room. He returned with a small book bound in worn leather and started to flick through it.

“On this island we had many a tradition and worked our own loopholes into the law,” he paused on a page, “and when the Vikings used to come over on sheep raids, they’d often take themselves a wife alongside animals and goods.”

Lin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. You fidgeted with your ring, which you’d picked up from the windowsill before you left. You wished it didn’t seem to fit so well on your finger.

“And local law,” the vicar continued, “stated that, provided the husband could retrieve his wife before the sun set on that day, the marriage would be void.” 

“Brilliant, you said with as much cheer as you could muster.

The vicar held up a finger, looking pained. “Unless the marriage has been consummated.”

You and Lin shook your heads and tried not to make eye contact, staring at the paisley patterned sofa cushions instead. “Not had the time,” Lin joked. 

Outside the afternoon was ending, the sun shining through the windows and into your eyes. “We don’t have long,” you pointed out, getting to your feet. “And we still need to find Vanessa.”

--

In a cove on the beach, hidden from the rest of the island by the curl of its rock, you and Lin waited for Vanessa. Lin had left a message on her phone, telling her where to come and being purposefully obscure in case any paparrazo cared enough to try and tap the call.

“Do you, Lin-Manuel Miranda, take his woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the vicar asked. Stood on the beach between you with the setting sun behind him, it would have been a beautiful wedding.

Lin took off his ring, “Absolutely not.”

The vicar turned to you. “And do you, Y/N L/N, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“As if,” you tried to joke, but the words got caught in your throat and fell flat. The gold of your ring glinted in the soft light of the setting sun as you took it off carefully and handed it back to Lin. You felt yourself blinking back tears as you watched him tuck it carefully into the pocket of those ridiculous tartan trousers and smile awkwardly at you.

The vicar closed the Bible and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “Then I pronounce this marriage annulled.”

--

You paced along the beach, shivering in the cold rain and wishing you’d thought to bring your raincoat. The waves crashed against the pebbles of the beach in a way that you knew meant a storm was coming and the wind was picking up. You didn’t think you could trust yourself to talk to Lin.

“Y/N?”

Speak of the devil. You paused, wiping your damp hair out of your eyes. Lin lifted a sturdy black umbrella - the vicar’s, if you were right - and you joined him underneath it. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said earnestly, taking your hand. “I should have known you wouldn’t sell me out.”

You smiled weakly. “But my mother-”

“Is not you,” Lin finished firmly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

Lin gently pulled you into a hug. You yelped, before hesitantly wrapping your arms around him and closing your eyes. He was warm and smelled of paper and your lemony shampoo and, with the rain pattering against the umbrella above your heads, it was perfect.

“Lin!” a new voice called and you opened your eyes to see a woman in muddy clothes all but running down the steep stone steps to the cove.

Lin turned quickly, breaking your hug, and grinned. “Vanessa,” he breathed and the tenderness in his voice made your heart clench a little in your chest. “You made it.”

As though he’d forgotten you, Lin picked up Vanessa and whirled her in a circle, almost knocking you over. Vanessa’s smile matched his, widening when she noticed his outfit. “What are you wearing?”

Lin shrugged, still smiling. Vanessa though, was anxious. “Some of the press followed me,” she said, looking back up the stone steps, “they might be here soon.”

Watching Lin’s smile melt away, you knew what you had to do. “I’ll head them off,” you promised. “Invent something about you getting married in that old shepherd’s hut or something.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Lin still looked worried, but you brushed his concern away like snow before it could settle. “Will you be alright?”

“Doesn’t matter, so long as you’re alright.” You took the umbrella from him and turned to the steps.

“I’ll come to the top of the steps with you,” Lin insisted. You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already half way up, Vanessa standing surprised beside the vicar.

You followed him. Before you reached the level grass you could hear distant chatter and knew Vanessa had been right and the paparazzi were coming. Lin was watching the hill, waiting. Taking a deep breath, you tapped him on the shoulder.

“You know,” you said carefully, knowing these words were your only chance before he crossed the ocean and never looked back, “that hotshot life in New York must get pretty tiring. If you ever want a quiet life, I’ll be here, probably.”

“Y/N,” Lin said, and the way he said your name was answer enough - like it was the name of someone he’d already left behind, like it was all he needed to say - but you pressed on anyway.

“I love you.” Before he could say no, you wiped your eyes from the tears you hadn’t even felt welling and falling and started to walk away. “I’ll head the press off,” you promised, hating how you could hear your tears in your voice and feel them, raw and painful, in your throat. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

He called something after you but his words were whipped away by the wind and rain.

--

The press appeared over the hill, a bedraggled lot dressed for city lives and clutching fancy big cameras to their chests, trying to look through the rain for any sign of Lin. You waved to them, forcing a smile though it’s the last thing you feel like doing right now. “This way,” you shouted, “they’re getting married in a shepherd’s hut along here- local tradition!”

They didn’t question you or how you knew, just followed and you hoped Lin and Vanessa would get away okay.

--

Six months later

It was with a sad sigh that you closed your suitcase, zipping your things up inside again. Your room was as untouched as if the last half year had never happened, bed carefully made and desk cleared of clutter but for your old typewriter.

On the kitchen counter sat your passport, battered and probably soon to run out, and your boarding pass. At the sink, your mother washed up from lunch, and in her silence you heard her accusation.

You’re leaving again.

“Have you got everything?” she asked, drying her hands. She had packed you a lunch for the train down to Glasgow and when she pulled you in for a hug she smelled like home. “Don’t dwell on Lin.”

You could only smile at that and promise to try.

She waved you out the door, anxiety written in the set of her mouth and the way she fiddled with the hem of her blouse. She kept waving until you were over the hill and on your way towards the harbour where the tiny ferry sat docked and waiting, paint peeling. 

You passed your suitcase to Old Ben, who manned the ferry when it was needed and was the island plumber when it wasn’t, and clambered on. You nearly fell initially, wobbly on the harbour waves. The old benches didn’t look stable, so instead you clung to the railing and waited.

Old Ben started the engine and the tiny ferry pulled away, starting along the dock towards the wee lighthouse at the end. Someone was climbing the rusty ladder on the side from a tiny fishing boat below. You saw dark hair and, despite yourself, felt a pang in your chest. The figure turned as the ferry started to head into open waters.

And it was Lin.

You spotted each other at the same time. Your grip on the railing tightened and you felt faint as he shouted “Y/N!” above the sound of waves and engine and wind. “What are you doing?” He was still on the ladder, precarious, open-mouthed.

“Leaving!” you yelled back when you found your voice. “You?”

“Coming to find you,” his voice was fainter already, but you were certain you’re not dreaming his words.

Heart in your throat, you called back one last question over the dark sea, “What about Vanessa?”

This time the waves and the engine overpowered his reply. You turned to Old Ben, who watched you with a half smile. “You’ll be wanting to turn back,” he said, and you could only nod. 

--

Old Ben anchored the boat at the bottom of the ladder you’d spotted Lin on, promising to get your suitcase to shore, and you clambered up, cursing at the cold of the corroding metal. As you reached the edge of the dock, Lin reached down to pull you up. 

He didn’t let go for a moment as you stepped onto the age-smoothed wood of the dock, wonder in his eyes. “You came back,” he whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His hair was wind-mussed and his goatee clearly not shaved in a while. His west wing shirt was creased and all you could think was he’s back.

You weren’t quite ready to embrace him though and stepped back. “What about Vanessa?” you repeated.

Lin rubbed the back of his neck, “We discussed it.” You raised an eyebrow, “And realised we weren’t right for each other.”

“And?” Even with him here, at your side, you couldn’t finish the question, couldn’t voice your hopes, “What are you doing here?”

Tentatively, Lin took your hand again, lacing your fingers together, “Well, I’m actually here on a sheep raiding expedition.”

You snorted and realised you were smiling despite yourself, “Is that so?”

“I had thought,” he looked down at your bare hand in his, at where his ring was for all of a day, “I might try and nab myself a wife at the same time.”

His free hand came up and gently rested against your cheek as he leaned forward. “You’d be so lucky,” you murmured and tilted your head a little to let him kiss you. 

It was gentle and sweet and he pulled away. “Is that okay-?”

“Shut up,” you whispered, still smiling, and tugged him back by his shirt. This time you felt the brush of his stubble and the gasp when he opened his mouth and the way his free hand was suddenly at your waist, clutching you to him.

After a moment- though you thought you could have kissed him forever- you pulled away to rest your head on his shoulder. “It’s more than okay,” you said, and Lin laughed.

“Please, George. You require all of the other women in camp to help out, why should I be exempt?” You ask, sitting in bed waiting for George to join you.

“Because my dear, those other women are not my wife,” he responds without looking away from the two notes in his hands.

You get out of bed and walk over to him, “my love, think about how that looks to the other wives and their husbands. Those poor women have to work in order to remain in camp with their families or face being drummed out.” You stand behind him, wrapping your arms across his chest and resting your head on his shoulder. “They keep the camp running, while I contribute nothing. I just want to help.”

George let’s out a sigh, knowing it is always easier to just give into whatever it is you ask of him and then it is convince you otherwise. It was common knowledge amongst George’s military family that his young wife has the most powerful man in the colonies wrapped around her little finger. He was aware of what some of the men said about your relationship, but George was perfectly happy and wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I make no promises, [Y/N], but I give you my word that I shall think about it.”

“That is all I ask, love.” You kiss him on his neck. “Now, General Washington, I believe it is time you join me in bed.” You slide your hands down his chest.

“Look at this,” He holds up the two notes up to your face, “these two documents appear identical, but one is a forgery, but I cannot tell which one.”

You let out a defeated sigh, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you take the notes from him, stepping closer to the candlelight so you can get a better look at the paper in your hands. You take a few moments closely looking at the notes comparing them to one another. “This is one is different.” You hold out the note in your left hand, “I would need to see it in better light, but to me the ink looks off. Now will you please come to bed?”

George takes the forged note out of your hand and starts to inspect it again. “I have been looking at these all day and did not notice that. How on earth did you notice it?”

“That, my love, is a secret. However, if you were to take me to bed, I might be persuaded to tell you all my secrets.”

“You are a fierce negotiator, Mrs. Washington.” George laughs. “Maybe I should send you to Congress to ask for money and supplies.” George playfully suggests as the two of you climb into bed

“Are you trying to get rid of me already, my dearest General? And to think I traveled all this way to be with you.” You tease, curling up next to him.

“Never, my love. I intend to keep you by my side for as long as possible. Although I do admit, I’d like to see if you could get better results than I do.” George muses as he kisses your temple before leaning over to blow out the bedside candle.

The following afternoon you were walking through camp taking in the sights and sounds of everything. You were lost in your thoughts when you hear someone calling your name, you turn around to see one of George’s many aide-de-camp walking towards you.

“Mrs. Washington, I am glad I have finally found you.” The auburn haired man said.

“Tench! Oh it has been far too long, are you feeling better? The last letter I received from George, he mentioned you were unwell.” You greeted him.

“I am feeling much better, thank you, ma’am.” Tench cleared his throat before continuing, “the General wanted me to introduce you Major Tallmadge. Apparently you are to help him with a project.” Tench escorts you a large tent attached to a cart and introduces you to the men George wanted you to assist.

Over the course of several weeks, you work closely with Mr. Sackett and Major Tallmadge organize and assisting them, occasionally speaking to George on their behalf. That was until two men made their way into camp, each telling a different story of a plot against George.

You were never intended to sit in on any interrogations, you just happened to be inside Mr. Sackett’s tent helping him with paperwork when he walked in with a tall blonde British officer that he introduced as Lt. Sutherland. You sat next to Mr. Sackett taking notes while he questioned the officer about his mission, Major Andre and any other information the man was willing to share.

Major Tallmadge paved the small shack, trying to make sense of Shanks’ story, he had the man run the story over and over until Ben finally asked him about the encounter that brought him back to the Continental army camp, Benjamin’s blood ran cold upon hearing Bill Shanks’ description of the man who was overheard plotting with Major Andre. Ben sent one of the guards to fetch Washington to meet him at Sackett’s cart, hoping to god that he wasn’t already too late.

Somehow George and Billy reached the cart first, finding all of Nathaniel’s carefully organized belongings stained with blood and scattered about the space. George’s eye was immediately drawn to your figure laying at the bottom of the steps leading up to the cart, he felt his heart shatter as he sees your feeble attempts to stop the bleeding. He couldn’t recall making his way over to you since it seemed like in the blink of an eye George was kneeling on the ground cradling you in arms, trying to stop the bleeding from the wound on your neck. He is no longer focused on what was happening around him, it felt like you and George were the only two people in the entire known universe.

George felt all of time and space come to a standstill as he held you and looked into your eyes watching the light slowly fade away. He silently promises himself to commit the feeling of your soft, bloodstained hands on his face to memory. He tries his best not focus on the sounds of your increasingly shallow dying breaths, instead he thinks of the sound of your laughter at his terrible jokes. The look of fear and panic in your beautiful eyes is enough to make George’s blood run cold as he begs for you to hold on, so instead his mind replaces it with the way you would look at him whenever you would dance together.

George watches as the lips he always looked forward to kissing, mumbling a final farewell that he wasn’t able to hear over the chaos that surrounded him. The world around him crumbled to the ground and turned to ashes as he felt your hands fall away from his face and the light in your eyes flicker out. The once stoic commander of the Continental army was plunged into darkness as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms.

George was so sure that he was right. Right in his assessment of the intelligence brought to camp by a turncoat who he was convinced just wanted to earn a few extra dollars and forgiveness for his past crimes. He felt like he was doing the right thing when he decided to keep you by his side, where he could make sure you were safe. He thought he had given you a safe job, one where you would constantly surrounded by men that he trusted.

It looked like a man, with massive grey wings poking over their shoulders. Cocoa coloured curls fell in matted clumps over soft, pain filled eyes. They shivered violently and a few star-specked feathers fell to the floor. “Ladies and gentlemen! Behold, our very own angel fallen from God himself, the The Freak of the Skies!” ropes fastened around the creature’s wings yanked them open harshly, it let out an unearthly scream that made your flesh rise and your bones melt into your shoes. There was a loud crack and the creature howled in agony and one of his wings hung on a funny angle. The crowd cheered and cried out encouragement. Your stomach turned violently and bile rose in your throat before it snaked its way back down. Absentmindedly you touched the faded scars defiling your collarbone.

“STOP!” The jeers stopped. The only sounds where the whistling wind and the creature’s feeble sobs. “How can you do this? How can you hurt such a beautiful creature and sleep at night thinking God approves of what you do?”

“Run back to your brothel whore.” One of the men cried out.

“Miss this creature was struck down from God, he was cast out to live in humiliation.” Spoke the ringmaster: his loud voice resonated through the night, shaking the stars where they shone. He turned once more to the onslaught of people before him, “and live in humiliation he shall!” They cheers seemed less enthusiastic this time; a few people looked uncomfortable, but unwilling to say anything. The creature looked at you with sorrowful brown eyes that made your heart splinter.

“I will buy him! Name your price.”

He laughed, “name my price? You have no idea how to bargain do you? A freak such as this will cost much more than a pretty little thing like you could afford.” You scowled and reached behind your neck to unclasp a golden chain, three gold rings dangled from it. One ring was thinner and had a large ruby in its centre, surrounded by tiny diamonds, the others were plain gold bands.

“This enough?” The ringmaster stared at the jewels, his eyes wide he practically slavered over it, reaching out his bony fingers. Quick as a flash you pulled them back, “free them first.” He scowled and pulled a large ring of keys from his coat pocket, finding the right one he inserted it in the lock and opened the door. The creature huddled in the corner, scarred hands shackled behind it’s back, cuffs rubbing the raw skin. “You poor thing.” He looked up at you with widened eyes, as if he expected you to hurt him.

“Where are the keys for his shackles?”

“The smallest one.” Quickly you unlocked the shackles and, with the creature’s permission, slipped an arm around him to help him stand. Leaning on you heavily, he limped out of the trailer, his wings dragging on the ground behind him. You led him past the stares, until you could no longer hear them. You walked until the screams of the ‘freaks’ could no longer be heard over the rustle of the grass in the cool breeze and the crunch crunch crunch of your feet on gravel.

The moon was dipping low in the sky as you neared your small cottage. Moonshadows painted the stone roof silver and the cluster of trees around the cottage black. The door groaned as it opened to reveal the small cluster of furniture. A small table and a straw mattress. A loft was placed above a large stack of firewood. Your mother sat facing the fire, rocking your baby in his small cradle gently. She turned at the sound of the door opening, stared bug-eyed at the sight before her. Quick steps and she was by your side, questions rapidfire as her gaze flickered to Lafayette. “Mama, this is Lafayette. He needs medical attention, he was part of the freak show.” Lafayette shifted, his good wing trembling as your mother took a step closer, her eyes pierced his own. She took in his ragged appearance, eyeing up the multiple cuts and bruises that littered his skinny frame.

“Well then, you know where the bandages are, go get them.” She turned to Lafayette, her eyes softening, “I will go get you some food.” And with that she marched over to the kitchen, head held high.

You led him to sit on your mattress. “I’m going to boil some water and you can wash yourself, the cuts need to be cleaned before they can be dressed.” He nodded, head hanging as he refused to meet your eyes. You longed to place your arms around his scrawny frame and hold him there, stroke his dark curls until his fears went away. Instead you offered a small smile and stroked the air above his cheek, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Your voice barely rose above a whisper yet it filled every nook and cranny. He nodded stiffly, clearly not believing a word you said. He attempted to move his injured wing, only to whine in pain. “Shh don’t move it, I’m going to make a splint and try put it in a sling. Do you know how long it will take to heal?”

“About a week or so.” His voice was gravely and was quiet, powerful but deeply afraid. “I heal much faster than humans.” You nodded, noticing the bruises around his wrists where those God awful chains had shackled him were already faded to a blotchy yellow. You quickly nodded and hurried to get a washcloth and a tub.

One washed and dried his wings showed to be a soft white, slowly turning grey at the ends. Thick scars marred his back, some old and others just starting to form scabs. There were patches of feathers missing, and his skin was red and lumpy, like it had been burnt many times.

You offered a tub of sticky yellow salve to him before smearing some on your fingers and gently rubbing it on a particularly large gash above his right wing. He tensed as your fingers ghosted over his dark flesh. “Is this okay?”

He turned to meet your eyes for the first time since he’d been chained. “I-I don’t know. Please,” His voice cracked and he hung his head, eyes fixed firmly at the dirt floor. “Just don’t hurt me.” You dropped to you knees in front of him tears pooled in your eyes and you reached for his hand, tenderly grasping his fingers, leaving him room to slip them out if he wished; to your surprise he didn’t.

“I swear on my baby’s life, I will not hurt you. Had I wanted to see you hurt I would have left you in the freak show.” He gave a small nod and started applying the salve to the raw wounds around his wrists and ankles.

Your mother came in with a steaming bowl of bowl of broth full of carrots and chunks of mutton alongside a large chunk of bread smeared lavishly with butter. Lafayette’s eyes widened and his too-small stomach growled in anticipation.

“This is, for me?” He stared at the food in front of him, unwilling to believe it was for him.

“Sit down here dear, yes it’s for you. You need food, you’re far too skinny. When was the last time you were feed at that awful place?” He sat opposite you both, His wings closed together tightly, one in it’s makeshift sling.

“We-we don’t get food much, every few days maybe. The...the children slip us food sometimes.” He ate ravenously, barely stopping to breathe. Usually if someone ate like this in front of your mother, she would scold them for their eating habits; but she only frowned a little, a far away look in her eyes and went to fetch him a cup of water.

“You can sleep in the loft tonight Lafayette” You said as you cleared away his empty bowl, “I’ll bring you some blankets.”

“Thank you.” You turned, and for the first time since you freed him he looked you straight in the eye. “For what you did, I can never thank you enough mistress.” Your throat caught at the word ‘mistress’ and you hurried back to him, near flinging yourself at his feet you latched onto his hands, pressing a soft kiss to his bandaged knuckles.

“I am not your mistress. I bought you because you were suffering, what they did to you was wrong. I-I, please know you are free. You are free to leave whenever you choose.” Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes, “you may come and go, we will not stop you.” Lafayette gently pulled his hands from yours and brushed away a tear with his thumb. Tears streamed down his own beautiful face as he thanked you again and again. Eventually you both composed yourself, and you brought in a thick woolen blanket.

“Goodnight y/n.”