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Hamilton rode his horse through the forest. It was Christmas Eve, and there was no fighting. He was going to see Eliza and her sisters in a few days, and he couldn't be happier. The horse sped up, and Hamilton rested his head on the horse's neck, content. Little did he know, that was the last peaceful moment before everything he knew about the revolution shattered.
He allowed his eyes to flutter shut, just for a moment, all of his worries flying away like petals in the wind, then, and gunshot. His eyes flew open as the horse whinnied, crumbling to the ground. Hamilton reached for his pistol, his heart hammering in his chest as he got off the now bleeding horse, only to realize he had left it at the camp.
Shit.
That was his last thought before the back of a bayonet hit him in the head, knocking him out. He wouldn't see his family after all, and he wouldn't want to after the chain of events that would follow.
~~~
Hamilton coughed, sitting up. A silk blanket fell off of him, and he looked around. A redcoat officer glanced at him, "Well, look who finally woke up," The officer drawled, checking a pocket watch, "They hit you pretty hard, you didn't wake up the entire voyage to England!"
"England?" Hamilton echoed, panic gripping his chest, "What did you do?!" He tried to get out of the bed, the silk sheets tangling in between his legs, tripping him. His eyes blurred in pain, ringing in his ears as he gathered his surroundings. A luxurious bedroom, decorated with red and gold. Two doors. He lunged for the closet one, locking himself in the bathroom behind it. He found a window, peering out of it. Too high to escape; he needed another plan.
He heard another voice join the previous officer, "Where is Hamilton?"
"In the bathroom, sir, he hit his head trying to run off and I think he might've hurt himself, his eyes went cross for a moment," The officer responded smoothly.
"You insolent little-!" The man took a breath, it would do no good to frighten Hamilton with anger, "I'll deal with you later. I TOLD you not to scare him." The man's voice lowered to a whisper, and Hamilton only made out the words, "Manipulative generals."
The officer grumbled, "Hamilton, come out, your Majesty wishes to see you."
'Your Majesty.' That other voice was the King of England. King George III. "Shit." He muttered, scenarios running through his mind. He couldn't be tortured, he just couldn't! This- That would ruin him!
"Please, Hamilton," The man, no, the King muttered, "I just wish to talk. I mean no harm."
Hamilton's heart rabbited in his chest; the King's voice was gentle, almost fatherly. What was this trickery? Does the King really think of him that foolish? Nevertheless, he opened the door, standing stiffly.
The King clapped his hands jovially, putting his hand on Hamilton's shoulder, steering him to the other door and into the hall, the officer following at a distance. Hamilton stood straight as the King silently led him to his private office, the officer standing at the door as it clicked shut.
"Now that we're alone," The King said, oblivious to Hamilton's fear as he sat. "Sit down." The King gestured to a chair, and Hamilton sat, rigid.
The King poured himself some tea, "Would you care for some, Hamilton?"
Hamilton shook his head, trying to be civil as he wanted nothing more than to kill the King right then and there, "No, sir. Thank you."
"Shame." The King said, taking a sip, "I wanted to talk to you about General Washington."
"You wanted to interrogate me?" Hamilton asked, completely befuddled, "You are not getting information from me." Hamilton scowls, now glaring at the King with even more contempt as he laughed.
"Oh, you foolish boy," The King chortled, setting his tea down, "I see now why you were riding without a weapon. No, kid, I'm the one that's going to be giving information to you. You see, I've known the General for quite some time. Ambitious lad, the man is."
Hamilton shifted in his seat, becoming increasingly uncomfortable as to where this conversation was heading. "I'm not your kid. Don't call me that," He managed to grit out between his teeth.
The King gave Hamilton a look, before continuing, "I must admire his bravery, but I can't admire how he's manipulating the country." The Kings tone turned serious, "What do you think the General's plan for America is, if they win the war? Truly, has he told you, in detail, of his plans? You're his most trusted soldier and advisor, surely you'd know."
"He wants to make America a free country with free choice and equal rights," Hamilton answered without missing a beat, "He wants a place where people can grow old without living in constant fear of a monarch executing them!"
"I'm asking you, has he told you in detail how he's going to go about it?" The King took a long sip of his tea, waiting for a response. Hamilton shifted, racking his brain for a response. He hated how the King seemed to be picking him apart with his eyes, reading him like a book. The answer was short, simple, curt:
"No."
The King set down his tea, looking at him, "I know what he wants to do. He wants a dictatorship. He wants full control." Hamilton rose to his feet, storming towards the King, stopping as the King slid two letters his way, the cracked blue seal of Washington's crest on both of them. "Read them. Read them and you shall believe me."
Hamilton picked up one of them, but the King grabbed his wrist, not roughly, guiding it to the other one, "Read this one first, please." Hamilton grabbed it quickly, pulling out the letter.
~~~
'These foolish Americans eat up my every word; soon I'll defeat your armies and show them what I truly want. You'll be powerless. I'll paint you as the villain, even your own loyalists will turn on you. Surrender this war, and I could possibly reunite the colonies, and maybe then you could gain more land. Surrender now, and I'll help you, don't, and I'll make your life hell.'
The second one was dated a month later.
'I warned you that this decision would be pitiful. I'll have Hamilton rally the people upstate, those rich and poor will turn on you. He won't know my true intentions; people are already on my side that are close to him that will make this endeavor so much easier than you could ever comprehend in your mind. Your little threats about Hamilton turning on me won't work, he's too naive. He's pliable. He's pathetic. He's loyal. He's trusting. Everyone he knows is helping me. Even his family. Truly, George, your attempts to startle me are pathetic. You chose this path, and I will follow through with what you have decided."
~~~
Hamilton couldn't believe his eyes. He wanted to deny it, but the handwriting was so familiar, down to the tiny dots that Washington never bothered to make it more visible, down to the way he swooped his letters. Washington was using him, and although it wasn't directly said, Eliza was helping him, everyone was helping Washington manipulate Hamilton.
"You're bluffing," Hamilton tried to deny, and suddenly the tone of the King's voice made sense. The gentle steering, the kindness, and tone in his voice, like he was talking to a small child before delivering horrible news. It was too much to handle, and all he could do was deny.
The people he thought he was helping make America independent wanted so much worse than a monarchy, and Hamilton crumpled to his knees. He knew he had been betrayed by everyone, and he barely noticed the King getting up and crouching behind him as sobs escaped his throat.
The King sat down on the floor, pulling Hamilton close, and held him as Hamilton sobbed, "No, you're lying, I, all my friends- They couldn't have-"
The King had a third letter, but he didn't want to show him, not yet. It was the letter of threats he made after discovering he had captured Hamilton, warning the King that he would wreak havoc on the colonies if he told Hamilton, but he knew that Hamilton couldn't handle it. He even made threats against Hamilton, detailed ones of killing his slowly and making the King watch. He couldn't bare that, and decided to protect him.
Hamilton buried his head in his hands as the King held him tightly, grounding him, "I'm such a fool..."
"No your not, Washington is a lying manipulator, you had no idea of-" The door opened, and the King looked up, "Mulligans, out."
Hamilton looked up, his breath hitching as the familiar name, and saw them. Right behind Mulligans was Washington, who was holding a knife and a gun.
The King pushed Hamilton behind him, "Mulligans, you- you TRAITOR! What did you do with the guard outside?!" He asked, already knowing, seeing the pool of blood wrapping around the doorframe.
Mulligans pushed the King away, sending him thudding to the ground as Washington advanced on Hamilton, yanking him by the arm and pulling him to his feet, digging his nails into the flesh of Hamilton's arms.
The King flailed under Mulligans, watching in fear as Washington put the knife to Hamilton's collarbone, slicing the uniform and a thin line of blood. Hamilton hissed in pain. "I warned you," Washington spoke, yanking his head back the same way he wrote in the letter, noticing the two open ones on the desk, "You told him, and I'd torture him." Washington turned to Hamilton, "You haven't seen the third letter, but he has, so he knows exactly what's going to happen."
Washington dragged the knife deep into Hamilton's arm, cutting a deep gash along the length as Hamilton screamed. Adrenaline rushed through the King as he pushed Washington away and grabbed the knife; Hamilton stumbling to the ground.
A guard rushed in, seizing Washington and his gun that he still had, as another seized Mulligans. The King knelt by Hamilton. "I want them both executed tomorrow morning. Send them to the dungeons."
The guards nodded, leaving the room as The King grabbed Hamilton's arm, grabbing a roll of plaster and wrapping it around Hamilton's bleeding arm, "Kid, are you okay?"
Hamilton nodded, pressing a hand to the cut on his collar, that only had a few beads of blood, "I'm fine."
"Do you want to see them ex-" The King asked gently as he finished his ministration, and Hamilton shook his head, but said that he still wanted them dead. He wanted them all dead, but that wasn't going to happen.
~~~
The King decided to give the colonies their own independence a year later with Hamilton's persuasion, and a man named Thomas Jefferson was the first president. It wasn't perfect, but at least Hamilton knew that the King wouldn't betray him.
The Queen warmed up to Hamilton eventually, calling him her son, baking with him. On his birthday, she gifted him a pure white cat, and he named her Pearl. The world still had it's conflicts, but Hamilton finally learned what peace was.
END