Living a Lie [Jamilton]

Chapter 1

The fissure in his heart grew larger with every lie.

During one sleepless night, Lafayette decided to do something about this seemingly helpless situation.

He took out a pen and wrote to Thomas Jefferson.

Thomas Jefferson was an American friend of his whom he had met while taking a tour of a famous University in Paris.

Thomas was brilliant, the Age of Enlightenment personified. But the lost fascinating thing about him was the shocking resemblance he bore to Lafayette. The only difference was that Jefferson wore his hair down while Lafayette preferred to tie his hair back.

They would often joke about how easy it would be for them to impersonate one another.

Funny how things worked out.

My Dearest Thomas

The situation in France grows worse with every passing day. They have stopped interrogating the people they execute. They are killing people with no proof of their crimes. Killing people for no reason.

I ask a request of you. It is not an easy one, so I do not expect you to comply and have no hard feelings towards you if you choose not to. I ask only that you hear me out.

I am going to be blunt. I do not expect to survive this "revolution." I do not expect to live until the end of this week.

That being said, I know that my Alexander will be heartbroken when he learns of my death.

It is no secret that we look very similar. It is no secret that we could easily transform into one another just by changing the way we wear our hair.

When I die, I want you to pretend to be me.

Put your hair up and speak in a French accent. You speak fluent French. I know you can do it.

Pretend that everything is alright. That you have returned from France and all is alright with your family.

Keep up the facade for a bit. A few weeks or so, whatever you deem fit.

Then break up with him. Tell him that you found a new lover in France and you are going to leave to be with them.

Alexander will be upset about breaking up, though that is nothing compared to the agony he would feel if he knew of my death. Think of it as the lesser of two evils. It is best for me to voluntarily leave his life in pursuit of some new love than to be killed while away from him.

I understand that this request is strange, and I understand if you don't want to do this. In that case, I recommend that you break the news as gently as possible. But make sure you tell him. Don't let him find out from someone else. It is better if he can hear the news from a close friend of mine than some random acquaintance.

I quite enjoyed our friendship and I regret not being alive to experience more of it.

Best of luck, my dearest Thomas.

Take good care of my Alexander for me. We all know that he was born without a self-preservation instinct.

Best wishes,

Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette

The next morning, a soldier knocked on the door.

Lafayette knew what was coming.

He knew that resistance was futile, that nothing would save him.

He knew that his death was inevitable.

He'd considered suicide, considered ending his own life to deny the "Revolutionaries" the satisfaction of taking it.

But that would be cowardice.

That would be letting the enemy win.

He would die with his head held high.

He stepped out into the street, the soldier dragging him onto the wooden platform by the arm.

The Guillotine.

The National Razor.

Lafayette was forced onto his knees as they set up the guillotine.

"Any last words?" The soldier growled.

Lafayette took a deep breath.

"I may not live to see our glory. But I will gladly join the fight. And when our children tell our story, they'll tell the story of tonight." Lafayette took a shaking breath. "Raise a glass to freedom, something they can never take away. No matter what they tell you. Raise a glass to the four of us, tomorrow they'll be mo-"

Alexander, my love, take your time. I'll see you on the other side.