Part One
December 21st, 1777
"Athena, please do not go. I beg of you."
Her mother was a disheveled wreck, but Athena didn't pay her any mind as she packed her black, leather case. Rolls of thin, webbed gauze, opium pills, sprigs of lavender, mint and liquor.
Scalpels and forceps ranging from only a few inches long to an entire King's foot. She grimaced at the thought. The King had started this all to begin with - blood wouldn't have to be shed if he hadn't been the sole factor in leading thousands of men across the ocean, and all without having to raise a single bejeweled finger.
"You know that I must, Mother. Father and I made a promise to General Washington, and boyhood promises-"
"Are ones that cannot be broken. Do not act as if I do not treat your father's silly mantra as if it is a religion." Edith McAlister was draped over her daughter's trunk that sat by her cot. It was a simple, white painted one made of thick oak. Her coppery coils of hair spilled down her delicate face, painted with a fragile expression of pure anguish.
Her skirts were wrinkled and stained with remnants of tea, cups of which she was never able to finish for a reason she never cared to explain.
"We are the only people available at such a time, Mother! I am not going by choice." Athena twisted around to face her grieving mother, and felt her heart sink to her stomach. "Oh, Mother. Please do not act this way."
"It is nearly Christmas!" Edith's tone turned icy- something that only occurred when she didn't get what she wanted. "Have you not thought of that, dear girl of mine?"
Athena didn't respond. She merely shut the lid to her carrying case, and curled her long, thin fingers around the smooth, lacquer-polished handle. She unfolded herself to her full height, and ran a hand on the soft, linen skirt of her dress. Her husk-yellow hair, woven back into a hastily-done braid suddenly felt a thousand times heavier, as if it were a pendulum attached to her head, swinging back and forth.
"I have thought of it, you must believe me, but we are not living in regular times." She picked up the case and wasn't preparing for the weight that overcame her arm. She tipped backwards, but she regained her footing as quickly as possible. She pivoted on her heel, trying to keep herself upright.
Edith sat herself up as well and once she was recombobulated, she looked her daughter up and down, obsidian eyes practically boring into her soul. Her thin, red painted lips curled up into a wan smile. "Sometimes I do not know why I fight you when I know I will not win."
"I learned from the best."
Edith let out a sharp, high cackle and stood. She stepped forward and took Athena's face in her soft, sweet-scented palms. "That you did, and you will still be learning for as long as you live. Just because you have turned eighteen doesn't mean you know everything the world has to offer."
It was Athena's turn to laugh. "I know, Mother." The hands of the grandfather clock that stood staunchly in place by her bedroom door were poised at eight and ten. "I must be going now."
Edith bade her daughter goodbye with a stifled sob and a kiss on the cheek. Her father was waiting in the foyer for her arrival, dressed in his finest garments.
He sat upon a velvet-upholstered ottoman in front of the flames that were simpering in the last fleeting moments of life. His giant body was curled over in such a way that made him seem small - something that Athena had never thought he could be. His hair, a wild mane of brown, had been hastily pulled back with a few tight pulls of a silken ribbon. His thick, squared face was thin and angular from the effects of neglecting even the smallest of meals. She knew his stomach ached with the pains of hunger - hers already beat like a hollow drum each day without fail.
"Papa, I am ready to leave," She said, announcing her arrival with some hesitance. He turned his head towards the direction of her voice, eyes filled with the haze of sleeplessness. "Ah, my dear." His voice was thin, a fraction of its booming nature. "Very good. We must be going."
He staggered to his feet, hands shoved in the pockets of his over-jacket which was a mottled shade of gray. It had been covered in sick, blood, and everything in between, but yet it persisted.
"You have said goodbye to your mother, I assume."
"Of course." A sour feeling filled her mouth. "How dare you even suggest that I didn't?"
"I apologize profusely, Lady Beauford." A smile pulled at the corners of her father's mouth. He beckoned his daughter to the front hall. "I will be quick to fetch your chest, and then we will be escorted off by one of George's men." There was some bitterness as he finished off those last few words, but it did not linger for long.
"The aide-de-camp will be arriving, yes?"
"Precisely. And please," He steadied her in place with the help of an authoritative hand. "Stay by the window, and only the window."
She felt her own mouth curl up into a smile, or a smirk would be a better way to describe it. "Do not tell me that you fear that a boy that barely fills his boots will sweep me off my feet."
"Athena Marie, now is not the time to make merry."
She set her jaw, gave him a furtive nod, and watched as he tromped his way up the stairs, two steps at a time. Winter had cast its spell upon Pennsylvania without mercy.
The blanket of snow that covered the browning grass had begun to melt only a few days before, only to be halted by a torrential downpour. The wet skeins of dirt road that ran through Pilkington were trapped under thick sheets of ice. It had not been a problem for many, since not many resided in Pilkington.
Those who did live there did not choose to, in most if not all cases. Athena did as told by her father, keeping a keen eye out for the young man she had described only moments before.
She knew that it was childish, hoping that her foolish thought would somehow come to fruition. After what felt like an eternity, she noticed a speck of brown streaking across the sinking gray of night.
The speck took on the form of a horse - no, no, two. Two brilliant white stallions were galloping up the road with a sort of ferocity and yet brilliance. They nearly went skidding into one another as they came to yield in front of the Beauford manor.
The first soldier she had seen exchanged words with the second one, still mounted upon his horse. She started for the door. What hostess didn't greet their guests when they had come all this way in the harsh, unrelenting cold, she told herself, as she curled her fingers around the knob, and gave it a twist. The first soldier started up the cobblestone paved path, slipping over the raised stones.
"Are you alright, sir?" She asked, whilst smoothing out her skirts yet again.
"Yes, yes. You'll have to excuse my clumsiness." The man's face, shaded by the growing sheath of night, was bright pink, especially the tip of his nose and the shells of his ears. Athena found herself unable to come up with the proper syllables to string together a response. His eyes were a striking, arresting shade of violet. Tendrils of red hair that had escaped the long-tailed ribbon he held it back with framed his face. His lips were cracked and dry from exposure to the cold, something he was surely not a stranger to.
"Please, don't think anything of it," She said finally, with an aimless wave of her hand. "You have not yet seen me waltz with a partner. That is a true sight of clumsiness for one to behold."
"My worries have been soothed." He replied, smiling wide enough so that she could see the pearly whites of his teeth. "I take it that you are Athena Beauford, as described by the General before my comrade and I departed."
"The very one described." She responded. His eyes flashed with something she could not name, but she did not linger on it long. "And you are?"
"Alexander Hamilton, General Washington's lead aide-de-camp." The words sounded like a script he was required to stick to, but he did so with pride, judging by the manner in which he puffed out his chest.
"Charmed."
"And the like." Alexander took her hand in his calloused, yet delicate hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. After a moment, she pulled her hand away and let it rest in the hold of the other. She couldn't ignore the rising, bubbling heat that was starting to show on her cheeks. "I trust that our ride to Valley Forge will be quick and without much trouble?"
"If we leave in the next few minutes, I can promise that it will be as such."
"Wonderful." She turned away from the aide with a flourish, making sure that her skirts fluttered with just a smidgen of flirtatiousness. "I will fetch my father." Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the young man's pinkened cheeks start to turn scarlet.