I pushed a historical event a little further so this could happen and Y/N could be both with Lafayette and in that place (which I won't reveal quite yet). Also, if you cannot read the letters in this chapter, please tell me. I already know Samsungs can't read it.
Also, I apologize to everyone who read this chapter beforehand. I didn't notice that I accidentally published it.
》》》》》》
Y/N drifted in and out and in and out and in and out of sleep.
And each time she woke, she felt even more sick.
But every time she opened her eyes, she caught a glimpse of someone praying for her.
All five (? she couldn't remember the exact number) times, her father stood over her, elbows propped up on the bed as he whispered a prayer shakily.
Was he scared?
She had never heard him scared before.
Once, Tilghman was praying in the far back.
Another time, it was John Fitzgerald, then Caleb Gibbs and Richard Kidder Meade.
Someone was just... holding her hand.
She finally fully opens her eyes and lets out a groan, "Am I dead yet?"
Alexander was sitting beside the bed, gripping her hand as if his life depended on it.
His grip loosens and she closes her eyes, "How long was I out?"
"You've been in and out of consciousness for a day."
She sits up slowly, despite her father and suitor's (can she even call him that anymore?) protests.
"Y/N, lay back down. You need your rest."
"I'm fine... what did Doctor Thatcher say...?"
"He said it could be anything from the pox, yellow fever, pneumonia or pleurisy." Alexander tells her.
"But he couldn't check properly without you being awake." George explains.
"I'll fetch the doctor, Your Excellency."
George nods once and Y/N groans, holding her stomach, "Is there dinner?"
"I'll have Billy bring some in after Mr. Thatcher gives his diagnosis." George tells her, feeling her forehead.
"Father..." Y/N pushes his hands away.
"I'm only checking for a fever."
"I'm fine, Father." Y/N tells him, "I just need water and food."
Just then, the doctor comes in and Y/N looks up, "Good day, Doctor Thatcher."
"Good day, Colonel Washington," he greets, setting his bag down on the end of the bed.
"Colonel Hamilton should not have bothered you, Doctor, for I am in good health. I assure you." Y/N tells him as he opens the bag and pulls out a few tools.
"I shan't pass up the opportunity to make sure of it, Colonel. If you'll allow me," he glances at George.
"You needn't ask my father for permission. Only me." Y/N tells him.
George raises his eyebrows, giving a slight smile, and gestures to Y/N with his eyes.
Thatcher turns to her and George walks out with a simple, "I'll get you your breakfast."
Y/N swings her legs over the side of the bed and Doctor Thatcher grabs a small hammer and a thin wooden plank about two inches long.
Y/N unbuttons her shirt and undershirt and removes them, leaving only the bandages.
He presses the plank against her chest, "Breathe for me."
She takes a few deep breaths and each time he hits the plank softly with the hammer, listening for inflammation of her lungs.
"No pleurisy," he states.
She nods once, beginning to dress.
"Any muscle pain? Cramps? Aches or chills?" Doctor Thatcher asks.
"Just a slight headache and dizziness." Y/N tells him.
"Have you been eating?" Dr. Thatcher asks.
"Before I fainted, I didn't, no." Y/N tells him.
"But now you do," he reaches into his bag.
He checks her temperature with his thermometer and asks, "Forgive me for the indecency, Colonel."
"Wh-?"
"When was your last monthly cycle?"
Y/N frowns and begins counting back.
Her eyes widen.
"... Seven weeks ago," she stares straight ahead.
He looks up at her, "And have you been-?"
"Yes."
"This explains many symptoms, Colonel. The fatigue is from the loss of appetite. The loss of appetite from the changes in your body for a healthy delivery of the baby."
"What about the fever?"
"It occurs sometimes, very rarely, but it does." Thatcher tells her.
"I can't be pregnant-"
"You're pregnant?"
She turns to see her father and Alexander standing in the doorway.
"It's only a possibility, Your Excellency." Doctor Thatcher assures him.
"It being a possibility is itself detestable." George growls.
Y/N flinches.
"Who?"
She stays silent.
She doesn't even know herself.
"Y/N Laurence Washington."
"I don't know, Papa... I..."
Alexander, who was pale, purses his lips, "I-is it me?"
"It could also be..." she trails off.
"Who?" Washington demands.
"Gilbert," she looks up.
"Lafayette..." Y/N whispers.
"My God." George mutters.
Y/N feels tears pool in his eyes and she turns to Doctor Thatcher.
"I will be by in a couple of weeks to check up. Perhaps you aren't with child after all, Colonel." Mr. Thatcher tells her.
She nods shakily as he packs up and leaves.
George puts her plate of food down harshly before turning and stomping out.
Alexander, still shaken, sits down, running his hands through his ginger hair, "Y-you slept with Lafayette...?"
Y/N turns her head slowly, "... Yes..."
He frowns and she turns back to her lap, "Twice..."
He stands silently and leaves.
She feels tears pool in her eyes and quickly wipes them.
She stands and makes the bed.
She grabs her sword and pistol and heads out, jogging down the stairs.
She puts her hat on and grabs her coat, swinging it on as she walked out.
How could this be happening to her?
》》》》》》
After a ride around camp and the forest surrounding it, Y/N returns to the lodgings.
She had come to terms with most of it.
There was a possibility she was pregnant.
Punishment for her sins.
She would have to marry either Lafayette or Hamilton.
Punishment for her sins.
And she was going to be a mother.
The Virginian sighs, tying Eclipse to the fence outside.
Y/N pets the horse's muzzle, "At least you don't have to worry about such vital things, ey?"
The black horse huffs and Y/N reaches into her small bag.
She holds up an apple and Eclipse neighs happily, biting into it.
When the horse finishes eating, Y/N walks inside.
As much as her father didn't want to see her, she needed to talk to him.
》》》》》》
George slowly moved the glass of madeira in a circle, watching it stir quietly.
He had so much to process.
So many intelligence reports. So many letters from Congress. From Jackie.
Jackie.
He cracks open a walnut with his teeth and winces at the pain shooting up his tooth.
Perhaps he could use another visit to the dentist.
He sits silently, trying to recall what he was thinking about.
Oh yes.
Jackie.
His stepson was has left them a while back and was asked to join Congress.
Poor Jackie. George simply thought he was ill fitted for the role of a congressman.
Martha was to come up north to join him soon.
Finally.
A visit from his darling wife.
Their little family might not be complete without Jackie, but at least Martha would be able to see one of her children again.
Unlike Patsy and her elder children.
Meanwhile George had lost his beloved brother and father.
Lawrence.
He frowns.
His eldest brother was always the brave one. The kind one. The smart one. The strong one.
If Lawrence were alive, he would indeed be a Patriot alongside his hot-tempered little brother.
In all honesty, if Lawrence were alive, George would not be Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army.
The older Washington certainly would have beat him in that category.
He taught George to dance. To dress properly. To behave. To tame his temper. He introduced him to a whole new world.
A world where he was fashioned into a gentleman.
A world he owes entirely to his brother.
His brother whom he adores with all his heart and soul.
And his beautiful flower. His darling, precious, daring, loving, strong flower.
Y/N simply adores her Uncle Lawrence, despite never meeting him and never being able to.
"Does it really matter, Papa? With the stories you tell me... it's like he's right here, saying hello to me for the first time. Every time," she had once told him.
He downs his madeira, immediately serving himself more.
Perhaps it was time she knew more.
More about the second Lawrence.
The Lawrence George never talked about.
He reaches into his desk, pulling out an old, rotting journal.
He opens it to the first page.
George silently reads.
21𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱, 1757
𝓜𝔂 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓛𝓪𝔀𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮,
𝓐𝓼 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓘 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓽. 𝓨𝓸𝓾, 𝓶𝔂 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭, 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓷, 𝓶𝔂 𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓬𝔂, 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓘 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓾𝓲𝓵𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓬 𝓟𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓝𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓯-𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓛𝓪𝔀𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮, 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓰𝓾𝓮 𝓲𝓷 1752, 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓮 5 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷.
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝔀, 𝓪𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓽, 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯.
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓘 𝓫𝓲𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓫𝔂𝓮, 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓸𝔂, 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓬𝓻𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻'𝓼 𝓑𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓮𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓯 𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝔂 𝓭𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾.
George ran a thumb over his faded signature.
He remembered those happy times.
Before the war...
before Pasty's death...
before Y/N.
He finishes his drink again and flips to a couple pages.
His handwriting was shakier.
He could remember why.
17𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓯 𝓙𝓾𝓵𝔂, 1757
𝓜𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓸𝔂,
𝓘 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓲𝔃𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓜𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮. 𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓮𝔁𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮, 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓷. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓼 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷.
𝓖𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓫𝔂𝓮, 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝔀 𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓱𝓼 𝓪𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭, 𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓕𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾.
A few tear stains marked the end of the page, smudging some words.
George blinks rapidly.
His vision was getting blurry for some reason.
He rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger.
Oh...
His vision was blurred because he was crying.
He wipes his eyes and frowns.
He slaps the journal closed just as someone knocks at the door.
"Your Excellency?"
"I asked not to be disturbed...!" George booms.
The sergeant clears his throat, "Um... there's a-a Colonel Washington to see you, S-Sir."
He serves himself another glass, "Let her in."
The door opens and Y/N is standing in the doorway.
"Father," she bows slightly.
He stays silent, drinking the madeira.
Y/N closes the door behind her, "Father, have you seen Colonel Hamilton?"
George shakes his head silently, putting the glass down.
Y/N looks him over and sits down, taking the glass before he can pour himself another.
Y/N grabs the madeira and pours herself, propping her feet up on his desk.
She sips on it, "Where's Alexander?"
"On a... on a mission-give that back." George reaches for the glass and Y/N drinks slowly.
"What mission?" She puts the glass down, wiping her mouth.
He leans his head on his fist, "He's to... destroy flour being held by the enemy in Daviser's Ferry."
"Dav... iser's Ferry," she whispers.
"Yes... that's what... I said." George mutters, pulling out another glass and filling his cup again.
He drinks it and Y/N quickly tells him to slow down.
He ignores her and nearly slams the glass on the desk.
Y/N flinches and looks up at him.
He wipes his mouth and stands, swaying slightly.
"Father, are you-?"
"I'm fine," George mutters, standing straight.
His hands slide off the desk, knocking the journal off the side.
Y/N stands and goes to grab it, glancing at the page it opened to, "What's this?"
George takes it from her, closing it, "The journal of a fool. A young lieutenant colonel in the British forces in America."
"That's your journal from the French and Indian War?" Y/N asked a bit too excitedly.
George nods, "'nd a while after... up until you were born..."
She snatches it from him, opening it.
"Y/N, no...! Give that here!" George reaches forward.
"Hold on, Father. I just want to read one entry," she gives him puppy dog eyes.
"No," he reaches for it.
She turns, looking down, "My dearest Lawrence, every day I spend with you-"
"Y/N." George stops reaching.
She ignores him, "-I fall more in love with your darling little eyes, which often search their surroundings like the future soldier I hope you become."
"My brother, your namesake, was a Major Adjutant in Lieutenant Governor of Virginia William Gooch's Regiment of Foot." Y/N reads slightly slower.
"Y/N. Stop reading." George orders.
She stays silent for a moment, "... You should, by now, know I never yield in speaking about him."
The younger Virginian chuckles, "You hardly ever speak about him."
"Now, my... son," she looks up at him.
George gives her a look, his lips pursed and jaw clenched.
"Father, what is this?"
When he doesn't respond, she continues reading, "Now, my son, I cherish the hope that you shall become a soldier, as your father and uncle have."
"Adieu, my sweet boy. Yours always," she finishes.
She turns, "Father..."
"What is this?"
George sits down, pouring himself the last of the madeira.
"In 1752, your uncle died of the white plague." George tells her after taking a swig.
"In 1756, just 4 years later... your mother was with child at the end of June..." he trails off.
"June... 1756..." she breathes, doing the math.
"Nine months later, on March 17th, 1757, she gave birth..." George glances up at her before looking down.
"He was beautiful." George tells her in a hushed whisper.
"No. No, no, no, no-"
"He was a year older than you. His name was Lawrence." George mutters, slowly spinning his glass im a circle.
"Why? Why didn't I know about this before?"
"Ask your mother." George says into his glass before downing the rest.
He puts the glass down and Y/N's nose scrunches up, "You reek of alcohol."
George ignores her, putting his head in his hands.
"Mother's coming up north in a few weeks, correct?" Y/N asks solemnly.
He nods silently.
Y/N, knowing that was all she was going to get, turns and leaves.
》》》》》》
"Colonel Washington!"
Y/N turns on Eclipse, seeing an injured Lafayette trotting up on his horse.
"Bonjour, mademoiselle," he shines his charming grin.
Y/N smiles slightly, "Bonjour, monsieur."
He reaches for her hand, grabbing onto the reigns with the other.
Lafayette places a kiss on her knuckles, "It is quite a pleasure to lay my eyes upon the most beautiful girl in America."
Y/N turns completely red right that second and he presses another kiss, "You know... that is what they call you in the court itself."
"Th-th-the-the French Court? They-they speak about me in the...?" Y/N gapes.
Lafayette smirks slightly, his horse trotting up ahead, "Of course. That is how I came to know of you, mademoiselle."
"Should you even be up, good sir?" Y/N asks.
"Non. But I had to come." Lafayette tells her.
"Listen, my father isn't in good spirits, Général. If you wished to speak with him, I assure you, it's best you wait." Y/N slides off Eclipse, tying the horse to the post.
Lafayette slowly begins to get off, holding back winces.
Y/N goes to his side and helps him carefully, "You shouldn't be riding."
"I had to," the Frenchman tells her as they manage to finally get his feet on the ground.
She quickly ties the horse to the post before helping Lafayette inside.
He leans on her slightly, apologizing for the bother.
"Think nothing of it, Monsieur." Y/N smiles slightly, sitting him down.
"And our dear Colonel Hamilton?" Lafayette asks, a soft smile on his lips.
"He's on a mission at Daviser's Ferry on the Schuylkill. He actually should be returning in a few minutes." Y/N says.
"Surely you didn't come all this way when a letter would have sufficed." Y/N tells him.
Lafayette fiddles with his messy uniform, "I confess... that is not all I hoped for, mademoiselle."
"Pardon," she goes to get him a drink.
When she returns, he takes the rum from her, "Merci."
"What is it you hoped for, Monsieur?" Y/N asks.
"Well, I was hoping to..." he trails off.
She blinks.
He whispers the next part.
"Pardon?" Y/N asks.
He looks up, "Well, I was hoping... to ask for your... hand in marriage."
Y/N falls silent.
"And I know it has only been a short time... but... je t'aime... Y/N." Lafayette attempts to stand.
"Don't. Don't get up." Y/N tells him, instead crouching.
He cups her face and whispers, "And child or no... I wish to marry you. If you'll have me..."
Y/N stares at him.
"I can give you time if you need it." Lafayette tells the Virginian.
"No," she blinks away tears quickly, "I wish to marry you."
Lafayette's eyes widen.
Y/N stands, tilting his chin up and kissing him softly.
The Frenchman, surprised, pulls away with a squeak.
Y/N grins slightly and Lafayette looks into her eyes, "I shall ask your father immediately."
The door swings open and Captain Henry Lee storms in, "General Washington! Where's General Washington?"
"In his office, Captain. Is there a problem?" Y/N turns.
"A very grave one." Lee whispers.
》》》》》》
Here we go! If you can't read the letters, they are in the comment section on their respective paragraphs.