Chapter Text
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It was late at night, and you had just left the home of one of your close friends who lives downtown. Her husband offered to escort you home, but you kindly declined his offer. Now you were walking towards your home alone, only a little bit of light available to guide your path. The silence was a rarity in town these days, the revolution soon to come. As you were walking, you heard footsteps behind you getting closer, and you were prepared to defend yourself.
A hand landed on your shoulder, and you turned and grabbed the wrist it was attached to. The owner of the wrist looked at you and smirked. “Excuse me? Who are you and why did you touch me?” You exclaimed.
“Alexander Hamilton, and who you might be?” The voice penetrated the ominous silence you were comforted by. You studied the man intently. “Y/N. And I have a suspicion,” you began to whisper, “you’re a revolutionary.” It wasn’t really a suspicion. You knew his name like the back of your hand, but had never put a face to the commonly spoken name.
Alexander looked nervous - he didn’t know what you knew. His eyes scanned your surroundings, then spoke once more. Strangely, the untrusting Alexander felt that this woman was someone he could tell about his involvement. Before he could speak, you interjected, “I’m not a spy, and I can prove it.” Alexander nodded as you pulled at the necklace you wore that held your wedding band and wishbox, opening the wishbox hanging from the chain and unrolling the miniscule sheet of paper kept inside.
“She is one of us. -General George Washington”
“Indeed I am, miss. Would you like me to accompany you to your home? It’s very late at night, and there’s always a danger of Redcoats that could be lurking. I’d hate to see you hurt.”
You know that every revolutionary would hate to see you hurt. Alex didn’t know that, and the reason was one of unprecedented proportions. “Company on the walk would be nice, thank you sir.” You smiled politely at Alexander as you continued your walk, the immigrant accompanying you.
“So Alexander, tell me about your experience in the war.” His eyes light up, excited to speak about something he’s so passionate about. “General Washington works himself ragged and has such stress on him it’s surprising he hasn’t snapped. We’ve all seen so much out there, but the General still leads with an iron fist and strong will...” Alexander continued on about what he’s done as Washington’s right hand man.
‘Wow,’ you thought. ‘This guy could just talk to the British to death to have us win the war.’ You pictured Alexander at the front lines with no other weapon but his voice, the British falling down dead with every word. You laughed, but didn’t know Alexander heard.
“Was something fun-” You turned to see why he didn’t finish and see a Redcoat with his hand over Alexander’s mouth. You didn’t scream for help. Instead, you lifted your dress up to your ankle and pulled out the knife you kept there for this reason. Alexander’s eyes widen even more at your weapon, the Redcoat not knowing until his hand is bleeding redder than his coat.
“You vile woman! Pray that the King shows you mercy!” You smirk at as you reply, “The King would never show me mercy. And I may be a vile woman, but unless you want to be a dead man, I suggest you leave. Now. If I see you again, I will finish what I started.” As you spoke to the Redcoat, the knife was pointed in his direction, you making him step backward to avoid the blade. He turned rapidly, speeding away as he held his bleeding hand.
Alexander, for the first time that night, was speechless. His eyes were still wide, jaw open almost to the ground. “Are you still going to walk me home, Alexander?” He jerked back to attention, falling back into step once more.
The rest of the trip was silent, Alexander consumed by the woman who unflinchingly saved his life minutes before. He wondered who taught her those abilities and why they deemed it necessary to teach her. Whoever it was, they were right. The knife was infinitely useful, and without it, he would be dead.
“Y/N, I just wanted to thank you for saving my life. There are many men that could learn from your example.” Alexander finally found his voice again, and you were touched by his words. From then on until you reached your destination, the conversation flowed freely and casually.
“And he dove in front of it to shield a baby bunny, and he ate dirt and lost a tooth - oh we’re here.” You and the immigrant were so involved in your conversation that you didn’t notice that you arrived until you almost passed it.
“Thank you, Alexander, for accompanying me. Would you like to come inside?” You asked. You were internally smirking, knowing what he would find when he came in. “I don’t see why not,” he reasoned.
Nodding, you opened the front door and called, “I’m home, dear! Are you here?” Almost like a spell, pounding footsteps echoed throughout your home. It was mere moments until you were in the presence of your husband. Alexander froze, beginning to stutter at the surprise of seeing his superior in anything but his uniform.
“Y/N! Where have you been, my love? I was worried sick about you! You could have been kidnapped, or even worse, killed!” George began to fuss over you protectively and obsessively, but you knew his heart was in the right place. He brought you in a tight embrace, his arms nearly suffocating you as he placed a kiss to your temple.
“You know the Redcoats would absolutely love to get their crummy hands on the American General’s wife. You need to be more careful, my darling. You are too important for me to lose.” George brings you out in front of him, hands gripping your shoulders. His eyes sweep over you, making sure not a hair was out of place and if there was, you knew he would make someone pay. As he's about to be content with thinking you being unharmed, he sees a red stain splattered onto your dress.
“WHOSE BLOOD IS THAT ON YOUR DRESS?!” The exclamation startled both you and the immigrant, who was either forgotten or unnoticed. Alexander spoke up for the first time since he arrived. “Um, Sir, am I granted permission to explain how that got there?” He sounded meek, the situation jarring the young man.
George finally noticed his right-hand man in his house, too caught up with fretting over you that he didn’t even comprehend the immigrant’s presence. “Alexander, son, I’m in my house, much less my banyan. Call me George.” Alexander nods, obviously uncomfortable with the interaction. “So, Si-George, may I explain the blood?” George nods at the younger man to tell the story.
In vivid detail and a tinge of exaggeration, Alex recounted the Redcoat that tried to kill him and how you had saved the day with the knife you hid under your dress. He emphasized and dramatized your words to the officer and the way the blood was squirting from his hand after you ran the blade across it. Alex’s hands were flailing and he was so animated in the storytelling that it sounded unbelievable.
George leaned down to your ear and whispered, “Tell me the real story later, my darling.” You nodded, smiling at your husband as Alex concluded the story.
“Si-George, she saved my life. That is not a lie or stretch of the truth. The Redcoat had a gun’s barrel pressed into my lower back and I could tell my life was in his hands. I am endowed to you, Y/N. Thank you for allowing me to go home to my wife alive.” Alexander kissed your hand briskly, not wanting George to have even the slightest idea that he meant to linger.
“Alexander, it was the only thing I had in mind when the Redcoat threatened us both. I was not going to let my husband’s right hand man be killed tonight, especially not in my presence when I had a chance to prevent it. I would do it a hundred times more if need be.” Your husband was awed at your words, knowing he made the right choice in a bride. He loved your courage and your selflessness, qualities he failed to see in himself.
After all, the most selfless and modest man doesn’t believe he holds that title.