Whaaat? A second chapter this soon? I had this one finished so I figured I might drop it for you guys. Whenever you see "present day" I'm referring to the "now" section of the arc. I have few flashbacks/background details I'll be filling in as well. Whenever we go back in time, I'll indicate that as well. This chapter takes place in present day. Present day being a couple months after chapter nine (where Astrid kills the soldier). Let's call this chapter a hard T/soft M. Also, I have a poll up on my account, if you have the time I would like to hear your feedback.

-Hawkfrost

Present day

Early Winter

1778

Henry rolled his neck to work out the kinks. With a popping noise, they loosened. He let out a sigh and turned back to his workstation. He had been sitting here for hours now, he needed to get the plans exactly right, for if his gamble worked, the war would be over within the year and he could go home. It was still unbelievable to him the negligence of the high command. In their arrogance, they had ignored a mountain's worth of evidence of the imminent threat that was colonial independence. Because of this, almost overnight, the thirteen separate colonies had formed a central government to unify the people, a military to defend said people and to top it off, a central economy to pay for it all. It was a daunting task that everyone in Whitehall had assumed would take months at the very least. But these cursed rebels had done it almost instantly.

This task, already no small matter, was carried out while undergoing an invasion by the British army, which made mincemeat out of whatever forces the Americans could throw at it. The first few battles were more of a slaughter than anything else. Pigeon's hill, Mauer's ridge, and others. Decisive victories that installed in The British army a false sense of security. That sense of security did not last long. It took only a few months for the reality of it all to set in. It was quickly made apparent that the army would be fighting an uphill battle. Lack of men and supplies, a chain of command that stretched almost three thousand miles, and a population in the colonies that could range from hostile to very supportive to outright ambivalent. The problems continued to mount without reprieve and without mercy.

This fact angered Henry more than it should've, whenever the British army met the Americans on the field of battle they almost always won. The Americans simply could not stand up to the most powerful army on the planet and they knew that. So despite several victories, none of them were enough would bring an end to the war. The Americans had learned their lesson and stopped fighting them openly, now they launched cowardly attacks on their supply lines, striking patrols and then slithering back into the woods like the Native Americans that helped them. After months of campaigning, it was made clear that something besides the force of arms would be needed to bring the colonies to their senses, he had finally been granted authority to launch Operation Dolos.

Whitehall was unhappy with how things had been going, the king made it clear he wanted a victory, by any means. Henry had decided to take a more strategic view of the war. Ultimately the British needed to destroy the rebel army. They had to do that if they had any hope of bringing the colonies back into the fold. His plan, undermine and cripple the fledgling American economy. The logic was simple; if the economy was in shambles the Americans would not be able to purchase the men and material needed to continue the war. At the same, by undermining the economy they would also be undermining the American Congress, which was acting as the central government. Henry reasoned that if people lost faith in the Congress, they would realize that war could not be won, and they would all return to the fold. After the fighting around Philadelphia reached a new high in bloodiness and destruction, more and more of the high command adopted his point of view.

Whitehall authorized this new strategic design. The navy began implanting it by limiting American trade with foreign nations using the all-powerful British Navy to interdict as much overseas commerce as possible as well as searching vessels from "neutral" countries for war materials in route to America. Henry had been opposed to his particular idea but was helpless to stop it. He feared that this would provoke Englands prideful neighbors and he was right. Whispers of France and Spain sending help to the rebels was adding grey to his hair. After bumbling around like newly castrated cows and making a spectacular mess of things, the military had called off all other operations. Now he had finally been allowed to take sole directorship. All the others had failed, but he would not. His plan's elegance was in its simplicity. If there was no economy, there was no war. He began writing, taking notes, jotting down ideas, and marking ideal staging points.

He took care not to make too much noise, he didn't want to disturb his…over night guest. The thought of her elicited a smile from him. God, I'm tired. He reclined in his chair to stretch his back. After drumming his fingers on the wood for a few seconds he came to his decision. Shoving his chair back, gently, he proceeded up the stairs to his bedroom, where she lay. He could see her form through the crepuscular lighting. Walking over, he sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed a strand of her golden locks back behind her ear. He was amazed at how much he liked her hair. It was as if his fingers were swimming through a sea of soft gold. It was deep and mesmerizing and it seemed to shimmer in the light. His most closely guarded secret was that he found it most relaxing to run his fingers through it. It soothed him, gave him a sort of delicate focus. She smiled lazily in response to his touch and rubbed her cheek against his fingers.

"What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?"

Her voice was slurred by sleep and she hadn't opened her eyes yet. He leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Work. It never quite stops for me."

She snorted and opened one eye, it twinkled with mirth.

"I seem to remember a time not so long ago when your work 'stopped' for an hour or two."

He laughed and pinched her ear.

"Cheeky bugger aren't you?"

She pouted at him, "No, but maybe after I've known you a little bit."

He raised an eyebrow lecherously at her and she laughed again. She propped herself up on one elbow and kissed his chest, a few inches shy of his heart. He slid into bed beside her and pulled her closer to him, bringing her head to rest on his chest. He tenderly stroked his fingers through her hair and earned himself a soft purr in acknowledgment.

"Can I at least ask what it is?"

Her fingers traced his ribs, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. She took her time, knowing exactly the reaction she would get from him. His breathing hitched and he swallowed hard. He could feel her smile in the darkness as she listened to his reaction.

"We've been through that Astrid." He kept the sentence short, he didn't trust his voice not to crack if he said more.

"I know, but, kiss, I, kiss, do, kiss, love, kiss, to, kiss, tease you."

She ended the last one on his jaw and then rolled onto her back.

"I do wonder what my friends would say if they knew I was sleeping with a Redcoat?"

Her question wasn't real and he could see the gleam of her teeth in the dark. He chuckled himself, her lying on her back gave him rather a nice view. She followed his gaze and then wiggled her eyebrows at him, causing more laughter.

"I don't think they'd blame you, after all, what lassie could resist such raw, Viking masculinity?"

He affected a guttural Scottish accent to make his delivery even more humorous, and to belie the sheer oddity of his words. Astrid was having trouble breathing now.

"oh-" she paused for air. "Is that what this package is? I assumed I had gotten the scrawny but brainy version."

Henry affected a pained expression. "You wound me, madam, you wound me."

"Aww, did the big bad Brit get his feelings hurt?"

She leaned forward to kiss him again when a soft knock reverberated through the door. Letting out a sigh, Henry kissed her forehead and walked towards the door, along the way he pulling on a shirt.

Astrid flopped back down onto the bed twirling a strand of her hair through her fingers. She could hear the sounds of whispers, but not actual words. She rolled onto her stomach and listened intently for a few seconds. Suddenly the door shut and the footsteps that receded did so with urgency. She simply dropped her head on the pillow. It was to be expected, when it came to his job, Henry was dead serious. She slid out of bed and threw on a robe. The silk fabric was so soft on her skin that she paused briefly to ponder just how much money this man has. It still bothered her somewhat the blatant displays of wealth, and how they never seemed to realize how fortunate they were. Now she was walking barefoot on exquisite hardwood floors, naked except for the robe that no doubt cost a months salary.

She traced her fingers over the velvet covering the walls, gazing at the portraits that hung on them with a bored interest. She had little use for art, she had little use for all things not necessary. So many of the women of her time busied themselves with nonsense. They did their hair, they prettied themselves with so much makeup they might as well be circus clowns. They curtsied, they were properly mannered, and they were utterly vapid. She supposed it couldn't be helped, for many women there was no other recourse. All they had was the hope of being married off into money or at least a man with decent prospects. That was the cost of living in a society that didn't hold women in that high of esteem. And her? She paused in front of a painting, it was of some English lord or the other, standing beside him was a woman with blonde hair…and blue eyes. Astrid stared at this painting intently. Could she do it? Do I want to do it? Now there's a thousand-pound question. She frowned and look down at her hands. She knew what she was, she knew all that had been done to her, she had carried the pain of it bottled inside her for years. An orphan, cast aside by the country of the man she was now intertwined with. There was an irony if she ever saw one.

Her parents would be been horrified if they knew that their little girl would grow up to sleep with a Brit. They would've viewed it as an unspeakable crime. The English are our enemy Astrid, never forget that. She could hear her fathers voice in her head, usually strong and caring, this time harsh and forceful, his Ulster accent especially thick. All she had wanted to do was play with the boy, he had been nice to her, shared his books with her, even taught her to read. But he was an Englishman, and for that reason alone her father had forbidden her to interact with him again. There was little to be done about it, the Irish and the English had been enemies for over a century, there was little hope of that changing now.

Which brought her back to him. Major Henry Haddock, a typical Englishman through and through. Born into a wealthy merchant family, educated at Oxford, groomed for military service where he found his niche as an intelligence officer. His mannerism, his behavior, his politics, it all harmonized with everything British. Except it didn't, he owned slaves, if one could even call them that. It would not do at all to pay them, so he treated them as human beings instead. He gave them proper living conditions, fed them, made sure the doctors checked them over twice a year. He never yelled at them, hit them, or even spoke demeaningly to him. In turn, they seemed to exhibit genuine affection and respect for him, also being protective when others came looking for him. Everything about him was to form and yet clashed against it at the same time. He was kind and gentle, yet relentless in his campaigns against the rebels. She thought back to the dinner party where they had been reintroduced to each other. If she closed her eyes she could still feel the gentle firmness of his hand on her waist. The caution in his eyes as they had danced. The intoxicating smell of is cologne.

It all played havoc with her. She knew her purpose for being here, why she had been invited in particular, why the major had been steered towards her, but here, in his house, she could forget all that. For here, all she was…

She bit her lip in frustration. Damnit, even by herself she could barely get the words out. She took a deep breath and looked at her reflection. Say it, say it and be done with it. Here, here all she was, was a girl in…in lo-

I warned you that Astrid's emotions would begin to play havoc with her loyalties. This is an AU, so I'm free to take some liberty's with how the story progresses in relation to historical fact. In my story the British aren't going to win, but not everything is going to go down as history has it.