𝐌𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞́ (𝐋𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐞́𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬)

1.4

HELLO! cHAPTER 4 HERE WE GO! New character this chapter, we're in for a good time and more sassy Alex. Y'all gonna see where she gets it from lol. This chapter is longer, and it was actually going to continue on but I felt like it was just too much for one chapter so I cut it off and i'm working on the next one currently. Until then, onward with the narrative!

Quick questions: what's the first musical you ever listened to? AND what's your guys favorite musical? AND what's your favorite song from that musical?

    Marquis de Lafayette was tough on his children growing up. Not to say he wasn't a good father, he was just strict. He wanted his kids to be well disciplined and educated, and when they slacked off he would often scold them to put them back on track. Georges was one of the only children of his to have children of his own, and while he tried to be as diligent and strict of a father as Marquis was he found it was hard when dealing with Alexandrea. The girl was exactly like her grandfather, and when the two were together it was like listening to twins. Their minds were extremely alike in nature.

Growing up, Marquis had practically been Alexandrea's best friend, something that might seem strange, but to her it was normal. She loved his stories about his time spent in America and the friends he had made there. The only few still alive that she knew of included Aaron Burr, who wasn't exactly a part of the group of the four close friends, but who was quite fond of the girl actually. There was also Eliza Hamilton who she had met a few times before on trips with her father and grandfather to America when she was younger. Eliza loved the little girl, saying she reminded her so much of her sister Angelica. And then there was Hercules Mulligan, who had died just a few years before, but who had played a large role in her childhood. He told her about his childhood, about how he spied on the British for the revolution and was caught in ridiculous circumstances while trying to pass information back and forth. She loved every single story. To this day, she was still good friends with many of his children.

Marquis knew from a young age that his granddaughter was going to be just like him. And he favored her greatly for it. He may have grown up quite strict with his own children, but with his grandchildren nothing was too big to ask for. Alexandrea was by far his favorite grandchild, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. From the moment the words vive la France were yelled from her little four year old mouth, wielding a wooden sword and running around his home in his overly large trench coat and hat while pretending to be him, he knew there was not a thing he wouldn't do for her.

Her spirit only grew with age. Many times her father would try and scold his own for encouraging Alexandrea, and many times he was met with the reminder of his own reckless nature as a child. Georges was in no way innocent, Marquis never failed to remind him of that.

So Alexandrea loved her grandfather, more than anything actually. She often found herself at his home, if not the Moulin Rouge, more than her own. Including that very day.

"Who are you writing to now?" Marquis watched Alexandrea as her hand flew across the book in front of her, writing quickly, as if the thoughts inside her head were moving faster than she could write, as if she would forget what she was thinking if she didn't immediately get them down on paper. It reminded him of an old friend.

"No one," she didn't look up, "just had an idea and wanted to make sure I had it written down to share with the girls for tomorrow."

"Your sisters?"

Alexandrea stopped writing and actually looked up for once. She hadn't told him what she had been doing the last couple of days, she hadn't told anyone actually. The only people who knew were those at the Moulin Rouge and the people involved, and of course the Les Amis. "My friends actually."