#hamiltonangst

Part 1

Martha dismounted swiftly off her black stallion, her feet hitting the dusty ground. She smiled, he dark violet dress flowing in the wind. She looked out over the rows of tents, searching for George. Her eyes landed on Alexander, she quickly walked over to him, the scrawny man turned around and his gaze fell dark.  “Ms. Washington...good to see you here.” 

“Good to see you too Alexander, have you per chance seen George?”

He took a deep breath, as if about to give bad news. Marta’s stance . stiffened. “He has fallen ill, the malaria got to him.” Alexander sighed.

 Martha’s gaze fell on George’s tent and she made her way over. She opened the tent flaps, revealing her husband, lying on his cot. A thick blanket draped over his body. She put her bag on a wooden chair and walked over to him, sitting in a chair next to the cot. He laid on his back, sweat running down his forehead. She moved her hand to his, lacing their fingers together. In the corner of her eye, she saw Alexander. Without looking away from George, she asked.  “Will he recover...or is it futile?” 

Alexander seemed shocked as he answered. “There’s no way of telling ma’am. I’m not a doctor, though, even the doctors don’t know whether he will or not.” 

She nodded. “Thank you, Alexander...” And with that, he was gone. She brought a hand to George’s cheek, she almost flinched away at how hot it was. She ran the pad of her thumb across his jawline. “Please don’t leave me George...I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

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George’s eyes fluttered open, his vision was blurry, but he made out Martha’s figure. He smiled slightly, trying to sit up. Martha instantly pushed him back down. “Don’t push yourself.” He nodded and shifted over, making room for her. She looked around before getting into the cot. He wrapped and arm around her, he had been stripped of almost every bit of clothing, other than his underwear. She rested her head against his warm chest, his heart thumped against her ear, faster then usual.  “Are you feeling any better?” She asked. “Not really, but better now that you’re here.” His voice was scratchy.                    “Well, anything is better than nothing.”

George smiled, closing his eyes, he soon fell asleep again, Martha still nuzzled up to his chest.

"call me son one more time!!!"

King George III was waiting for his daughter, Amelia, to return from the hospital, he hasn't been himself since Octavius and Alfred passed away. He was pacing in his throne room, near seconds from having a nervous breakdown.

That's when Samuel Seabury walked into the throne room, tear stains on his cheeks.

"Samuel, is my daughter alright? What's troubling you?"

The King was confused. Sam walked over to the king, and put something in his hand. Once the king could see exactly what it is, he felt his heart break into a thousand little pieces.

It was a mourning ring.

"I'm deeply sorry.."

The king sank to his knees and began to cry loudly, his daughter, his pride and joy.