Liberté et l'Amour

The Accidental Patriot // Lafayette x Reader

The day began normally enough, with an early morning and plenty of chores to do around your family's tiny farm. That was before you saw the redcoats - the British army itself - trampling your family's meager crops. 

You hid instantly in the loft of your tiny house, daring only to peer through a crack in the boards, the tales of the terrible things British soldiers do to the women of the colonies springing to your mind. Feeling more terrified than you ever have in your life, you desperately wish your father and brothers weren't off at war, that your mother didn't work in the city. But perhaps the farm looks abandoned and is of little interest to passing troops.

You shiver so hard that you are sure it shakes the entire house.

"Pick up the pace, men! We march to Lexington to revoke the weapons of the rebellion, and it must be done in haste!" you hear an English-accented voice yell from your hiding place.

Did he say Lexington? No, it couldn't be.

That's where your father and brothers are stationed.

You feel dread wash over you like a bucket of cold water, freezing you where you hunker. You wait for ten breathless, awful minutes, knowing that if you dare to move from your hiding place before the soldiers pass, they will not hesitate to kill or capture you.

When you can't hear the army anymore, you move shakily from your crouching position, joints popping. Of course you know what you have to do - you have to get to Lexington before the British army does. Adrenaline already pumping through your veins, you pull on your mother's old cloak and hurry to the barn, where the old plow horse is snoozing. Mel has been around ever since you can remember, and only seems to get greyer and slower with each passing year. You only hope she has the wind to make it all the way to Lexington.

As your shaking fingers struggle to buckle the saddle, your mind is racing to determine the fastest and safest way to town. The army would be forced to take the main road, which meant you would have to circumvent them on the path through the forest --  a longer and more treacherous route. But armies take time to move, and you are confident you can make it before any redcoat can.

//

You ride hard for hours, breath pluming as darkness settles around the trees. Old Mel is holding up better than you thought she would, as if she knows how important your mission is. Your hands are numb, your sense of time absolutely shot by the dark and the fear and the endless, endless trees. Surely you must be there soon...

And seconds later, the trees give way to open, wild fields -- the outskirts of Lexington, blessedly free of screaming and smoke and murderers in red coats. You urge Mel faster till her hooves are clattering on the cobbles, a sound loud as two horses, loud enough to wake the dead.

It really was too loud.

You turn suddenly in your saddle to see a figure on a horse bearing down upon you. A new spike of fear spears your heart -- a highwayman, a British officer -- but you ride still faster, determined to reach the house of John Hancock, man of the Revolution. Still the hoofbeats rattle behind you, still the shadow chases you, still the blood runs hot through your veins.

Hancock Street, there it is, but what number, what number -- 36! 36, there -- you turn quickly into the drive. A flying leap off Mel, falling headlong into the gravel, your hands and knees are bleeding, the figure is still behind you --

But he, too, vaults off his horse and runs toward you, and you're sure you're going to die, but he kneels beside you and his hands are on you. Gentle, running over your shoulders, your arms, your back.

"Miss! Miss, are you all right?"

Gasping for breath, still on your hands and knees, you push his hands aside. "Please, I need to get inside, I have an urgent message for Mr. Hancock-"