Chapter Text
Continental Army Base, Valley Forge, 1 week after Alfred’s departure
General Washington frowned as he reached the commotion of the main camp. He’d been looking all about for his aide - he’d even asked a few of the officers lingering around - but it seemed that no one had a clue of where Alexander Hamilton had gone off to. Alexander was not particularly obedient to anyone he didn’t respect, but George had long since earned his loyalty, and it was unusual for the young man to vanish without telling the General where he was going.
When he finally found someone who was able to tell where Alexander had gone, it didn’t help.
“You’re sure?” he inquired, frowning.
“Yes, Your Excellency,” the soldier said, “A pair of scouts had encountered a lone traveler, who identified themselves as one of your spies, and handed over their identification codes. One of the scouts reported the incident to Hamilton, as protocol dictated, and Hamilton said he would go verify them before reporting back to you, sir.”
The General frowned, “How long ago did this occur?” He’d been looking for his aide for what had seemed like hours.
The soldier hesitated, “A few hours ago, sir.”
And Alexander hadn’t reported back yet?
He straightened, smoothing out the frown on his face, “Show me where they went.”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
.
He’d walked a good twenty minutes past the sentry line around camp when he finally heard his aide’s familiar voice. Thankfully, they were in the woods - hidden enough from the main road, but far enough from camp that their conversation was private - but then again, the General knew his aide could be circumspect.
He then thought about the drunken riot Alexander had started with his little band of merry men in a tavern shortly after arriving in New York, advocating for American independence, and winced.
When he put his mind to it, that is.
He slipped closer, intentionally minding his steps. If Alexander had wanted to meet with a spy without informing the General, then George wanted to know why before he did anything else.
“ - and I’ve had to intercept just about everything!” he heard Alexander grumble, audibly frustrated, “Every spy we had in the area was in a bloody panic. All four of them, in one place, looking for your cover. It was lucky that he got a letter to Eliza so quickly, or I wouldn’t have heard about any of it before the reports started coming in.” There was a pause. “And what in God’s name did you say to Ms. Ward? She was half hysterical in her letter.”
The other person - the spy presumably - said something, too quiet for George to hear, but obviously meant something to Alexander, who sighed.
“She’ll be alright. I’m just worried about how we’re going to tell the General.” Said General’s ears perked up, and his eyes narrowed. What did that mean?
The spy’s voice came again, too soft for George to pick up on the words, but the concerned tone conveyed a lot. He snuck closer, curling a gloved hand around the hefty bough of one of the trees ringing the clearing. It was all that concealed him from the pair.
Alex sighed again, “I know, I’ve been trying to keep his stress level down,” he admitted quietly, startling the listening General. “It’s been growing constantly , and Congress does not help with their insistent orders and the lack of understanding. I’ve been waiting for you to get here so we could break the news to him gently. I don’t know if he can handle another of your heart attacks, Alfred.”
Alfred?!
Finally close enough to the pair, he heard a familiar voice huff, “If we’re lucky, the fact that I’m here will alleviate most of it.”
George pushed down the spike of panic that raced through him. That was definitely Alfred. And what could’ve prompted the young nation-to-be to break cover when he’d been so firmly established in New York, and not due for a report for another two months...he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
But this was his nation. This was Alfred, who he’d only allowed into their operations at all because he’d proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that no one would find him when he was away from George and Gilbert’s keen eyes. Alfred, who would risk himself for his people in a heartbeat, who George couldn’t bear the thought of being caught. Of being stifled and stripped of the young man he was becoming away from the British Empire’s possessive grasp. He needed to know.
“It was close enough as it was,” Alfred added quietly, just barely audible to the eavesdropping General, “I think if Arthur hadn’t been quite so surprised by what I was saying, he would’ve reacted quicker. He already had me in a corner...there was every chance they would’ve extracted me without anyone being aware of it. And Adam doesn’t know how to contact you - he was very clear on that.”
Alexander made an uncharacteristically high pitched groan, “Maybe,” he...the General blinked, he could’ve sworn that his aide had just squeaked, “don’t tell the General that.”
Well...that was as good a cue as any.
He stepped out into the clearing.
Life, it seemed, had an interesting sense of humor. He ended up stepping out right behind his increasingly flustered and irate aide. Who, he noted with the corner of his lip quirking up in amusement, was directly opposite a travel-worn Alfred.
He looked good, the paternal side of him - the one he hadn’t known he’d possessed until he’d met his too-young nation-to-be - noted in sheer relief. Far better then he would’ve expected based on what little he’d pulled together from Alex’s mini-rant. He looked tired, lined with faint hints of stress, but he was mostly clean and pulled together. And still, he noted, in a dress.
It was sad to consider that even if the redcoats knew that they were on the search for a woman, women would still be less conspicuous than a young man of conscription age trying to flee one of the most well-guarded British occupied cities.
Likely as not, Alfred would’ve had the opportunity to stop at a nearby inn - possibly to keep the cover of a travelling young woman ironclad. Women were far more likely to trust the inn when possible, rather than risk the roads with the chances of bandits and ill-reputed rogues bandying about. It was also probably why it had taken Alfred more than a few days to make the journey; precautionary measures could rarely go awry. His hair had gone several shades darker than the General knew Miss Elizabeth Chase’s to be, and his travel dress was worn, but to those who knew him well it was obvious.
The truth was in his eyes.
Wide eyes, blue like the sky, tired, and staring straight at him.
My, he thought with a flare of well deserved amusement, I didn’t realize just how wide his eyes could go.
Were they anywhere else, George considered, Alfred would’ve been gaping. Something it seemed, he thought with ever increasing hilarity, that his usually observant aide had yet to pick up on.
As if he’d been waiting for a heaven sent sign, Alexander began to speak again, musing, “Maybe don’t mention the four of them either,” not noticing the way Alfred’s eyes grew wider as they moved from the General, to Hamilton, and then back again. “We could ease him into it. Hmm…”
“Alex,”
“Just a second, Alfred,” his aide waved away the interruption, “I’ve got an idea forming.”
“Seriously Alex,”
Alexander snapped his fingers, posture switching in a second to the Aha! of realization that the General was quite familiar with. “I’ve got it! We won’t mention the encounter yet,” he said, cheerful now that a feasible idea had come to him, ignorant of the way Alfred was staring at him incredulously, and tossing looks over his shoulder to the imposing, highly amused General standing only feet behind his oblivious aide, “We’ll start with the increased surveillance after your tenure at the Ward’s house and bring up the encounter on the quay as a near miss. No need to mention the exact specifics about the battalion they’ve got out hunting you just yet. Give it a few days, and then we can give him the specifics of how you got nearly caught - Alfred? Alfred, why are you looking at me like that?”
The General cleared his throat.
Alexander Hamilton froze, watching as Alfred buried his red face into his hands and breathed. He swallowed hard, and then said, “He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?”
The General’s smile was sharp, and Alfred was rather grateful Alexander couldn’t see it. “He is,” the man himself said dryly, tapping down on the amusement as his aid whirled around to face him. “And he would like a full report, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton.”
Alex whimpered, “Yes sir.”
.
The entire camp froze at the sound of their modern major general bellowing a loud, furious, “YOU WERE WHAT?!” and eyed each other warily. That did not bode well.
.
New York City, 2 days after Alfred’s departure
Poisonous green eyes looked up as Alistair re-entered the room, and he forced himself to relax when he felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end.
“Any news?” Arthur’s voice was soft and deadly, daring the Scotsman to deny him, and Alistair silently cursed his nephew’s efficiency. Whatever he’d said to Arthur in those precious minutes the two had been alone, it had been like setting off sparklers under a dragon’s tail. Only, instead of fire and fury, there was an almost simmering toxicity that burned only barely at bay behind poisonous verdant eyes.
Alistair shook his head, “No sign of him,” he sighed with heavy regret, carefully not wincing when the atmosphere around them all grew heavy. “None of the patrols saw him, and none of the checkpoints have a record of an Elizabeth Chase leaving the city. Nor anyone of that description.”
Arthur’s lips thinned and curled back at the corner, baring the edge of a snarl that would’ve set their teeth on edge had he given voice to it, “And the baker?” he demanded. The baker who’d played the role of Alfred’s father in this whole charade. To Alfred’s overly possessive blood father… the insult was almost unforgivable.
Rustling behind him stopped him from opening his mouth to damn the poor bastard who’d gotten in the middle of this cold war between his brother and nephew, and he threw a glance over his shoulder in time to see Rhys step from behind him into the room, resting a hand on his shoulder. Cool hazel glanced at him and then away, focusing on drawing their youngest brother’s attention to him.
“Rhys?”
The eldest of their quartet cleared his throat, “I found traces of magic on the baker,” he announced almost blithely, “When I spoke with him about his daughter’s whereabouts, he genuinely believed she was on her way to help her mother up in Boston. He seemed to have no knowledge of Alfred’s deception.”
Alistair blinked, “That’s not possible,” he murmured, contemplative. All the records they’d dug into over the last two weeks had indicated that until almost six years ago, Adam and Rebecca Chase hadn’t had any children. And then, out of nowhere, a daughter had appeared in their records, referred to fondly by her grandparents and all her father’s friends and extended family. Elizabeth Chase had entered into the world with a seamless grace, utterly unquestioned, and carved out a place for herself.
The brothers had a lot of questions for their nephew. Perhaps the foremost one being how the everloving fuck -?
Given that Alfred had still been living under Arthur’s auspicious guardianship six years ago upon Eliza Chase’s debut, it was an entirely valid question.
But the only way Elizabeth Chase could’ve come into being so seamlessly was with her family’s support. The mother and her family were staunch patriots - he highly doubted they would’ve spared much thought to a personal request from General Washington himself. But Adam Chase was a quiet loyalist, from a wealthy British merchant family, and best friends with Richard Ward, who’s loyalty no one with any insight into the shifting political dynamics of New York would ever question. His loyalty to his nation had been what had driven his marriage to shambles, causing the pair to separate. His friendship with Ward had earned a lot of enemies from the quiet patriot base in the city, and in neighboring New Jersey. He’d been a pillar of the New York loyalist community; his bakery long a favorite of the wealthy upper class and overseas elite alike. It had been how Elizabeth Chase had been welcomed so seamlessly into the loyalist ranks, and had become a pillar for them in her own right.
How on Earth could they have convinced this man, of all people, to support a patriot spy posing as his daughter?
Rhys’s voice was gentle, but authoritative, “I believe it’s a form of protection,” he said, “A gift, perhaps. Alfred knew he would come under scrutiny once he was discovered, though he must’ve hoped it would never come to pass. The read I could get on the magics lingering on the baker focused on memory. He truly believes he has a daughter, who’s gone up to her mother’s home. He has no knowledge of Alfred.”
The noise that came from Arthur’s throat was equal parts prideful and wrecked. Arthur had been the one who specialized in mental magics, after all. Manipulation and gentle persuasion, charms and coaxing and convincing people was his domain. And though he’d never risked teaching Alfred, it wasn’t hard to learn from centuries worth of observations.
“You’re sure, Rhys?”
“Completely.” And as the only one of the four of them who’d been fully trained by their mother before her untimely fading, there was no disputing Rhys’s assessment. No matter how much Alistair was sure Arthur wanted to.
A gift, Rhys had called it. And truly, there was no other way to describe it. In one move, Alfred had declawed them. He’d spared the one man left behind, who would’ve taken the fall for housing the little rebel spy. Who had no memory of said rebel spy, only a dutiful daughter whom he’d loved dearly.
Arthur couldn’t touch him. Not without having to answer to the court of public opinion; not without outing Alfred completely for who he was - and risk the chance that many people just wouldn’t believe him. Elizabeth Chase had been beloved by those who knew her, and had allies in the city high and low. One man’s voice - even that of an Admiral - would be hard pressed to bring her down so low.
A masterstroke, to keep the game alive without a loss to sustain it. Was it any wonder that Arthur was so indescribably livid?
If it was that alone that had Arthur so enraged, perhaps it would’ve set his mind at ease. But there was something else plaguing his brother, something insidious and monstrous that had grown and swollen the longer it took them to find even the barest traces of where Alfred might’ve gone.
Something terrifying brewed behind those poisoned verdant orbs, and Alistair feared victory might not be enough to quench it.
What had happened, in those minutes no one bore witness to, for the shadows of Rome to reappear in the conqueror’s eyes?
Arthur stood then, turning to them, and Alistair had to swallow down his fear with a curse. His little brother’s eyes were lethal.
“Smoke him out,” Arthur said, voice deadly soft, “I don’t care how many men it takes. I don’t care about the time, I don’t care about the effort or the manpower or the drain on our resources. I want every Elizabeth Chase dragged out, all his little rabbit holes filled in, every safe haven he has burned through. I want there to be no escape.”
Arthur stood ramrod straight, green eyes aglow with a simmering fury that stirred up dread deep within Alistair because he knew it wouldn’t be appeased as easily as winning this war. The aura, heavy and toxic, was so thick he almost couldn’t breathe. Rhys and Reilley were stiff and frozen at his side, Rhys’s hazel eyes inscrutable while Reilley’s leaf green were filled with fear.
It had been a long time since they’d truly feared their little brother. But then again… this wasn’t quite their little brother. It was Arthur, sanitized of his humanity; shorn of all the warmth and the emotions that his family once brought out in him. It was an Arthur made from the broken shell of a thrown-away conquest, filled with all the nastiest parts of him, all his sharp edges with over a millenia of fury and seething drive pushing him onwards.
“He will not run from me anymore. He will have nowhere left to hide,” the British Empire declared quietly, a proclamation that grit and hissed against his bones like the chains they truly were, “I will not allow it.”
It felt like the world went still.
“Find him.”
.
“If you will deny me my son, if you refuse me the right to be your father, to care and keep you safe as I have...then you will simply be mine instead. And you will know the difference.”