Chapter Text
Harsh winds exploded from within the wind bag, the remains of the storm eagerly escaping its confines and slamming into anything in its reach. Pushing their sails and making men stumble. Full speed ahead.
Soon, the wreckage of his drowned fleet and Poseidon’s rage were left behind.
Soon, the horizon was back to being an endless sea, with no hint of Ithica in sight.
Odysseus felt the cold of the unleashed rain seep into his bones as his panicked heart slowed down, sinking closer to despair. There are eyes on his back, as always, so he fought the urge to fall to his knees, needing to at least pretend to be a captain capable of leading everyone that remains home.
They lost so much, he should try to keep morale high.
Odysseus faced his scared men, having trouble looking them in the eye. His gaze must be as disoriented and horrified as theirs.
He had nothing.
No clever words to make things better, no reliable mentor to guide him, no friend to be his light, no wife to share her quiet strenght with him. It’s too much. He can’t do this, not now. He needs help, anything.
“Eurylochus,” He called, sounding more defeated than he would have liked, his head no more than a incoehent mess on his heavy shoulders “Check if our ship has any damage.” Quieter he added “I need a moment.”
Eurylochus was tense, his frown deeper than usual, and part of Odysseus feared he would be berated with an ‘I told you so’, yelled and glared at for all the war comrades he lead astray, his wrong decisions painting the sea red.
“Okay,” His second in command was merciful, lingered for an awkward moment before clasping his shoulder, the weight of it nearly making his tired body stumble, “...Get some rest, captain.”
Odysseus couldn’t force himself to smile, but he spared him a nod, feeling some of the weight on his shoulder leave as his second in command started barking orders, shaking people off their horrified shock. Eurylochus can deal with this, he is a… good second in command, he can keep the crew busy.
The king still has a friend by his side. A good friend. He isn’t alone.
(He feels alone.
He had felt alone for nine long and sleepless nights.)
His eyes are heavy, his cape feels like it was dragging his spent body down, and his spirit burns low.
He is so tired…
It doesn’t feel like he caught a wink of sleep.
(He could order the culprit who opened the bag to reveal themselves. He should punish them for dragging him away from his wife, from his son.)
Odysseus groaned, his head becoming a mess when he tried to picture his family.
Eurylochus is right, he should rest.
(What if Eurylochus saw who opened the bag? Did he pick their side over his? He is so close to the crew after all…
What if he was the one to open the bag in the first place? The idea makes Odysseus want to jump off the ship.)
He glanced at the sea, still seeing the phantom of corpses in the water.
He looked away, still hearing their screams, people that died begging their captain for guidance, for salvation, and left as corpses that will never recieve a proper burial
He bit his lips, doubting he would be able to fall asleep.
(Ruthlessness is mercy upon yourselves, but hasn't Odysseus punished his men enough? He isn’t like Poseidon, he isn’t a monster not when he has the choice not to be, not when his family won't suffer for it. He doesn’t want to be a monster, much less to his own men.
His man made a big mistake, but so did he. Odysseus' mistake was the one that brought Poseidon's wrath towards them. His pride and selfish attempts to keep Polites alive in his heart brought many ships to the bottom of the ocean. And he learned from this mistake. He is sure his men did too.
They are all humans. Flawed and desperate humans… They need to be there for each other in this sea of monsters…
please right…?)
He thought about his best friend, about how disappointed and heartbroken he would be if he saw so many deaths. Of how he would forgive Odysseus anyways.
(He should try to relax, right Polites?)
Ody swayed the second he stopped feeling eyes on his back and dragged himself to his quarters.
He’ll lock himself in his room for a bit… Hopefully dream, catch another glimpse of his family.
The dying rain abruptly stopped, the door he was going to open and the wood beneath his sandals disappearing. He stumbled like a newborn calf at the feeling of solid ground, certain this is divine intervention but unable to recognize what god has this kind of power. His head is pounding, his body crumbling, the last thing he wants to see right now is a fucking god, but still, he forced himself to sound polite “...Who goes there?”
Instead of an answer, his surroundings became a room.
Odysseus tensed up at the sudden visual change, holding on to blank walls for support.
“You…” A familiar voice said, making him freeze. “Could it be…?”
No way.
He looked up so fast the joints of his neck cracked, freezing at the sight of his lovely wife, her face so much more beautiful than he remembers. There are a few white strands in her brown hair, a new wrinkle near her brow, but her wise eyes are the same, wide in surprise.
His vision was a bit shaky but he soaked in everything.
“Odysseus?” She spoke softly, approaching him slowly but holding his cheek like it was second nature. He shivered at her warm, melting into her palm.
“Penelope…”
Is this a dream?
No, it can’t be. He can feel the cold water on his clothes, on his hair. It’s real.
(He has never been so happy to be drenched in his life)
“I know those eyes.” Penelope’s smile widened, her eyes growing wet as she hesitantly cupped his face.
Odysseus' eyes stung, his knees growing weak as he felt a laugh in his chest, yet his throat produced more of a choked sob. He felt alive again, using this dose of strength to give her a tight hug, one she was happy to return.
She gently lifted his head, brushing a wet strand off his face and staring at him with the utmost love and worry.
He caeefully held her thin wrists and the jewels in it, feeling his heart swell as he brushed his wet thumb on her warm skin. The smell of oak trees and home clinging to her brought him an ache, a hurt he welcomed with open arms.
(He doesn’t deserve this)
He held back a sob, the weight of all the people he failed fighting the joy of being alive, of seeing his wife.
“What’s wrong, my comrade?” A familiar voice whispered, trying to be quiet as to not interrupt them, but still making his heart stop.
Polites…?
Odysseus unconsciously held on tighter to his wife as he looked at his dead friend, who was breathing and smiling with worry at Eurylochus.
Odysseus' messy mind swirled, utterly lost.
This is a dream. It has to be.
He must have fallen unconscious in the rain, or slept in his wet clothes, this isn’t real.
(But why would he be in this strange room…? Why is Eurylochus here…? He doesn't want to face any of his crew. Not now.)
He buried his face on Penelope’s neck and breathed in, greedily holding on to her image, mentally apologizing for dirting her dress and thanking Morpheus for making her embrace feel so solid, not sure yet is this is real or not.
“Captain,” Eurylochus said after a moment, sounding as lost as he felt.
Odysseus looked back at his second in command, his wariness and disbelief didn’t fit the ‘too good to be true’ feel of this dream situation, as real as the wet clothes chilling his bones.
(As real as Penelope’s soft silks and delicate yet sturdy hands, full of small callouses from spending hours weaving. As real as Polites worried smile.)
This is real.
Odysseus felt himself cry harder, grabbing the solid shoulder of a confused and scared Polites and hugging on tight to him again. His fatigue crushed on him harder at the pair of hands rubbing his back and his hair, his light and his power there to provide him support and safety.
x - x - x - x
“Go home Alexander. That’s an order from your commander.”
Just like that, all the battles that led him to rise up, rising from the dirt of a forgotten island to a seat in the big boys table, tall enough to look at every piece in this revolution, was taken away from him. Every piece that had been so close to his reach, a mere promotion away from becoming his subordinates. He is out of the game, out of the board.
Say goodbye to dying on the battleship with glory.
Say goodbye to rising up.
He blames Charles Lee for this, that coward hasn't spoken a single thing of use since they met. Bless Lauren’s beautiful aim for giving the coward a taste of what he deserves!
Still, even the mental image of Lee’s defeat wasn’t enough to lift his mood.
Alexander kicked a rock in his way, not eager to rot at home while his comrades risked their lives for the revolution, having to rely on letters and newspapers to know what happened on the battlefield.
He could be leading armies, turning the battlefield, rising up and up and up nonstop until his name traveled from his tiny homeland to the other side of the globe. He could make rooms go silent just by walking in, his presence commanding respect. Eliza could live in the best house she could imagine, yet they’ll stay trapped in a tiny house in the middle of a city so much larger than what he has achieved, unsure how many of his friends will come back alive.
Hamilton stewed in his anger, reluctantly obeying.
Or planning to obey.
In a flash, the world grew white. No tents, no soldiers, no dirt beneath his boots. No yelling, no gunshots, no stench of war.
Just pure white.
Did he die?
Guezz, and here he thought his day couldn’t get any worse.
He glared down, half-expecting a straight bullet from one of the soldiers under Charles Lee command to be nested in his heart, killing him instantaneously, but he was fine. Two working lungs.
His blank surroundings slowly started to glow and soon he was forced to close his eyes to not go blind. In the span of a blink, he was relocated to a room with dark blue carpeted floor and black walls. There are no windows or lamps to be seen but it had a dim lighting to it, air fresh like a tree shade. There isn’t a single crack on the walls, a single speck of dust in the air.
It feels more like a drawing of a room, a concept, than an actual place.
What in the ever loving fuck is happening?
To make it even weirder, there were three chair roes, two with six chairs and the last one with a single lonely chair. Thirteen total.
One of which was occupied by a very confused-
“Alex?!” Milligan lit up “My brother, I thought I was dead.”
“Lafayette!” A voice to the left caught their attention, their smile widening at the sight of Lafayette and Lauren grabbing each other’s hand. “I haven’t seen you since you left for france-”
“Laurens!”
“Hamilton!”
“Mulligan!”
They all yelled each other’s name in delight, tripping over themselves to clasp each other’s hand and pat each other's shoulder.
The whole crew is here!
“Alexander!”
That voice! He turned towards Eliza, his wife's arms already open, eager to hug him. She run into him and he hugged her back on instinct, a bit startled but happy “Eliza!”
“Alexander.” She smiled, eyes watery and bright as she clung to him. His friends whistled and howled, still amused he was the first to get married of their bunch, but it was all in good nature, Eliza laughed along with them “I’m so glad you’re alive.”
“It takes more than a war to take me down.” He reassured with a smirk, kissing her hand and feeling a slight pang in his heart at how bright her eyes shone.
He didn’t spare much thought about how Eliza would feel if he died on the battlefield, mostly worried about his legacy, of how his death would become part of something bigger than himself.
“The general is here!” Laurens said, catching Alexander’s attention.
“And Burr too.” Lafayette groaned.
“Commander!”
"Gentlemen." Washington nodded at their presence. “We have company.” He pointed out, tilting his head to the other side of the room, where four people resided, two were drenched middle aged (?) men, one being the shortest of the group, with unkempt hair that felt long out of neglect, not style, and couldn't be tammed by his red headband, the other being a tall black man with shaved hair. Both drenched men looked exhausted but the one with the cape was palpably near a breakdown, holding on to a beautiful middle aged woman with graying hair kept in a tight bun, and a dark man with glasses and a red headband identical to the one cape man have. The glasses man was dirtier than the pretty woman, though both of the dry people looked worried
Hamilton raised a brow at their clothes. The men wore sheets like nightgowns and rudimentary cloths for belts, if it weren’t for the hints of gold armbands on the drenched men, and all the jewelry on the woman with fine silks he wouldn’t know they are rich. It’s so strange. No cravats, no coats, no pants, no frills, no puffs. As if being in a strange nightgown-like garment is the peak of status they can display.
What tiny island in the middle of nowhere did these people come from where they still use folded sheets for clothes? And here he thought his birth city was a forgotten spot where progress is unachievable.
“Who are they?” Eliza asked, sheltered but curious.
“Somebody is in need of towels.” Burr mumbled at the water pulling at their feet.
Alexander snorted, leave it to Burr to be prissy. His friend's priorities will always confuse him.
“Or pants,” Added Mulligan.
“That’s ancient Roman attire.” Angelica said, narrowing her eyes “Or Greek? I’m not fully sure.”
“I haven’t brushed up on my ancient history.” Eliza agreed. “What would either of them be doing here?”
“A better question, ladies.” Alexander said, “Where are we?”
No one had an answer.
“There is an owl too.” Angelica glanced at the lone chair on the last row, where an owl was perched on top of the seat headrest, the bird stared at him with unblinking grey eyes. Something about it felt weird, but he couldn’t quite place it, was it the majestic feathers? The intensity of its eyes? Its mere presence in this off-putting room?
“Regardless, we will need a translator.” Washington pointed out. “Did your studies teach you the greek tongue, Ms. Schuyeler?”
“They haven't, sir.”
“If they are the ones who called us here they should approach us with an ambassador soon.” Burr said “We should wait.”
“Please, they are as confused as we are.” Alexander rolled his eyes, raising his voice “Hey, you guys! Does anyone-”
“Alexander.” Eliza held his elbow with a slight head shake, softening in the scene of the man with a red cape crying in silence, embracing the woman in a tight side hug and clinging to the shoulders of the glasses man. She didn’t look bothered to get wet, gently brushing her fingers through the man’s messy hair, whispering something that made him cry harder, the display of care, of love, making her eyes soften. “I think we should give them a moment.”
“We are in a war, Mrs. Hamilton.” Washington said, his eyes distant as he watched the glasses man see something in the cape man's head that greatly surprised him, slowing down his comforting touch to look at the tall black man that was just staring at them with a haunted expression. “We should gather as much information as we can.”
“Yes!” He raised his head “Let me do it, sir-”
“You’re out of action, Alexander.” Washington said firmly, walking past him.
“Group hug!” The one with glasses said, extending a hand to the tall man, while still rubbing circles in the back of the cape man, whose sobs are now audible. Glasses smile was a bit melancholic, it was hard to hear what he said next, his voice growing too gentle, but the tall man grew hesitant, having to be dragged into the group hug.
“They seem to speak English just fine.” Alexander pointed out.
“The communication problem has been fixed.” A voice of no distinguishable gender flooded the room, seemingly coming from everywhere at once, even directly inside his head “You should be able to hear and understand each other now. I encourage both parties to take a seat and talk.”
Everyone jumped.
“The fuck?!” Laurens looked around like a startled cat.
“You heard that too!?”
“That’s unnerving.” Angelica got closer to Eliza, her usual playfulness nowhere to be found. Eliza held her hand, silently agreeing. It is unnerving. Strange.
The group of strangers also heard the voice, growing tense, and Alexander was torn between throwing himself into the front lines to question them or reassuring his wife she was safe.
At the added feel of Angelica's eyes on him, he knew there was a very clear right answer here.
He glances at Washington anyways, just to be extra sure his general doesn’t want him to talk. His hope was met with a head shake.
“We’ve got more numbers, Eliza,” He told Eliza. “If they want a fight we’ll win.”
The tall black man didn’t like that, sweating as he took in how crowded this place is, most occupants in the room not on his side. The woman’s eyes hardened at his words, holding on protectively to the man in her chest with a mix of determination and patience. The one with glasses kept a firm hand on his…friend…? visibly tense with the situation, but still sparing them a very hesitant smile. “Hello there! We do not want to fight.”
Eliza mirrored his tentative smile, relaxing when his smile grew brighter.
Burr offered a placid smile, eying the more silent strangers.
The man with the cape seemed to struggle to get out of his presumed lover’s embrace, his eyebags were deep, looking like a wreck from the tip of his sopping wet hair to his worn toe sandals, it made his words believable “We have fought for long enough, I would like to exchange words only.” His smile was small, through the fire in his brown eyes was off-putting “If possible.”
His fighting spirit was admirable, but mostly harmless, the four strangers are weaponless and outnumbered, the only ones that don't look exhausted and drenched are clearly more interested in keeping an eye on the cape guy than starting a fight.
Washinton took the risk and crossed the distance, staying a meter away from the strangers, all the empty chairs facing them, acting as an invisible audience in this eerie room.
“Are you the leader?” Washington asked with his authoritarian tone, making the crying man detach himself from his friends for good, raising his head and taking a step forwards. That was answer enough “I have questions I am hoping you can answer.”
“I am afraid we don’t have many answers.” His voice was hoarse but his eyes grew calm, taking an elegant bow, his red cape too wet to flutter behind him, “but I’ll give you what I can.” He said, water dripping from his hair, to his nose, to the fancy carpet, the picture of servitude.
“The name is George Washinton. Raise your head. Me and my men come in peace.” He introduced himself, gaining a confused look from the man with the glasses and the tall one with the dark skin, but no reaction from their leader or the woman with stony eyes.
The lack of recognition annoyed Alexander, do they not know they are in the presence of one of the greatest generals of all time?
“Tell me, where are we?” Washington continued.
“Peculiar name,” Cape man commented with a small smile, raising his hand when the one with glasses tried to extend his hand, which stopped him on his track. “I am afraid I don't know where we are, nor why we are here.” The stranger offered him a sympathetic smile, but not his own name. Something about him reeks of suspicion “I am assuming you wouldn’t either?”
“We wouldn’t be asking if we did now, would we?” Alexander pointed out, crossing his arms at Washington’s reprimanding glare.
What? Will they have to play ally again? These guys don’t have anything to offer! There is no need to have another Charles fucking Lee situation.
“Of course.” The stranger brushed him off, glancing to the corner of the room where the owl used to. He seemed tense.
“What country do you serve?” Washington asked, making him pay attention again.
“Greece.” He didn’t seem particularly proud, scanning everyone. “What country do you serve, sir?”
“America.” Washington said.
“...I am afraid I don't follow.” The drenched man said, glancing back at the pretty woman, who also shook her head.
“You will.” Alexander promised. “After we free it from the mainland, Britain’s defeat will become a phenomenon, and you'll hear our names across every sea!”
The woman didn’t look impressed, nor the tall dark man, even the friendly one with glasses wasn’t filled with awe.
“And what may they be sir?” The one in the cape asked with ease.
“Alexander Hamilton.” He raised his head, not discouraged by their lackluster reaction. “My name is Alexander Hamilton.”
"I'm John Laurens," His friend pat his shoulder to show his support, giving Hamilton a smile that made him feel better "We are comrades in this revolution!”
“For the revolution!” Lafayette and Mulligan cheered, wrapping an arm on each of his shoulders before looking at the strangers. “I’m Hercules Mulligan!”
“Moi Lafauyette!”
"I'm Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton," His wife stepped closer to the strangers with pride, her smile welcoming “It’s a pleasure to met you.”
The four strangers stared, a bit taken a back, probably by his Eliza's kind demeanor.
“That’s a lot of names!” The glasses guy said, smiling with open curiosity, the leader spared his friend a fond yet pained glance.
"I hope you don’t mind hearing more, sir." Angelica's playful tone made them pay attention, she has that effect on others “I’m Angelica Schuyler, her sister.”
“Aaron Burr, sir.” he offered a placid smile at the expectant look, going to offer his hand on instinct, but taking one look at their leader and changing his mind “...Why are you drenched?”
“We were in a storm.” The man with the cape said, gesturing to his tall and serious companion without taking his eyes off Burr. "We didn't get any warning to pack a change of clothes.”
“My apologies.” the voice said, making the room shine to a blinding degree again, and forcing him to close his eyes. Alexander blinked slowly, surprised to see everyone had been cleaned and dry, from the previously drenched greeks to his comrades. “My hospitality is rusty.”
Alexander looked down, his own clothes also clean, even the mud on his boots had disappeared.
His friends whistled, and even Washington stared at his own clean boots with wide eyes. The Greeks didn’t seem as surprised as they should by the magic being displayed.
“Thank you!” The man with glasses smiled at the ceiling, lightly patting the back of his now clean and dry friends. “I was worried my comrades would catch a cold.” He looked up, hopeful “What is your name, voice?”
“Assistir.” The voice said.
“Can you tell us where we are, mighty Assistir?” The one with the cape asked.
Assistir ignored him.
“Please,” Eliza tried, “I would like to know as well.”
Assistir ignored her.
Lafayette slapped the walls “Get us out!”
“If you’ll trap us without answers we should at least get something out of it” Mulligan laid on one of the chairs in the second row, “A good host would give us free drinks.”
“Yeah!”
Silence.
“Booo!” Mulligan mocked, kicking the back of the seat in front of him, playing the part of a brash fool.
“Your hospitality sucks!” Laurens yelled, also being ignored.
“They won’t help us.” Washington said.
“We should figure a way out on our own.” The greek woman looked at Lafayette “Are the walls hollow?”
“No, lady.”
“There is nothing on the chairs either,” Angelica said, so that’s why she’s been so quiet “Or the floor.”
Silence.
“That’s quite a predicament. It's fortunate we are in peaceful company.” Washington said, gesturing to the greeks with an order disguised as an invitation. “I remember you were about to introduce yourselves,”
“Of course, where are our manners? My name is Who,” The guy with the red cape and a red headband said, his smile charismatic, making him look good despite his fatigue “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Who?” Laurens, Alexander, and Burr questioned.
“Poor bastard.” Mulligan voiced their thoughts, more amused than anything.
“I’m Penelope.” The pretty woman's eyes crinkled with amusement, holding his hand “Who’s wife.”
“Lucky bastard.” Mulligan corrected.
The husband held her hand tighter, humming an agreement.
“My name is Polites!” The cheerful glasses man said, taking a step forward. “It is nice to meet you all!"
Who grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him from approaching and gaining an exasperated look. Something about the way Who’s tired eyes analyzed everything rubbed Alexander the wrong way.
“Eurylochus.” The more closed off man introduced himself, he seemed in a bad mood, thought that could just be his resting face.
“Eurilocus” Lauren repeated quietly, his brows raised “I’m not remembering that.”
“It’s far from the worst name I've heard.” Lafayette whispered on his other side, nonchalant.
“No surnames?” Washington questioned, sounding more confused than suspicious.
“Surnames?” Penelope asked, “As in our titles?”
“Family name, lady.” Burr offered, cutting-off a no doubt rude comment from Mulligan.
“And what would a family name be?”
Silence.
“You don’t know what a family name is…?”
“Should I?”
“Oh shit…” Lauren mumbled at the growing awkwardness “I don’t think they are fucking with us.”
“You people don't do surnames?” Alexander got in his space, looking down at the slightly shorter man in disbelief “Look me in the eye and tell me you don't know what a surname is.”
“I do not know what a surname is.” Who said with ease, still with his aggravatingly inoffensive attitude “Is stacking names a custom of your America?”
“Excuse me, sir. Are you making fun of us for having surnames??” Burr sounded too baffled to be offended.
“Surnames are a new custom,” The voice said, the way it could be heard from everywhere no less overwhelming the second time. “It started around a thousand years before the revolutionaries' birth.”
“Please,” Lafayette crossed his arms, glancing around with the rest of the revolutionaries, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever, or whatever , the voice is “You call that new?”.
“The Greeks in your presence are from three thousand years ago.” Assistir continued.
The owl hooted, breaking the silence, and despite hearing the bird, Alexander couldn't find it anymore.
Whatever, it must be in the ground between the chairs or something.
“What.” Eurylochus deadpaned.
“...Are you confident in this?” Washington recovered from the shock first, staring at the ceiling with concern. “I find that…”
“Impossible.” Alexander suggested, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling but not as skeptical as he should.
(This whole ‘teleported to a strange room with english-speaking greeks by a disembodied head that can magically clean their clothes’ situation may be affecting him. Go figure.)
“It’s incredible,” Polites laughed in surprise.
“Is it?” Eurylochus sighed.
“Of course, my comrade,” Polites reassured. “There is so much to learn here that we normally wouldn't be able to.” His eyes grew brighter as he spoke “I can only imagine how different the world has become! Tell me friends, what more has been invented since surnames? And what are these called?” He pointed at the frills and ruffles on Angelica’s dress “They seem fun.”
“...Have you never seen frills, sir?” Eliza asked, slowly approaching the greeks.
Polites shook his head.
Penelope didn’t seem familiar with it either, leaning on her husband's shoulder and whispering something that made him crack a small smile, kissing her cheek and holding her waist. The elegant woman smiled back.
“Sweet Jesus…” Burr stared at them with horror, making Eurylochus frown.
“Jesus?” Polites asked.
“You…” Alexander felt himself smile, fascinated by the sheer absurdity he was facing, “You have no idea who he is, do you?”
Polites shook his head, a bit confused but still smiling.
“The J man wasn’t born.” Lauren seemed dazed, “Do we know anyone from 3000 years ago??”
“Not from the top of my head! Polites, do you know how to read?” Hamilton grabbed the shoulders of this living relic, his brown eyes kind, different from the sculptures of ancient greeks he sees in passing books “Do you have paper? I am sure there are no pens yet but what about quills?! Have quills been invented yet?” He paused, still trying to wrap his head around how long ago these guys came from “Chariots?”
“Someone is excited!” Polites laughed as he was shook, lightly patting his arm. “I was taught the basics of reading from my friend.” He smiled at Who, which sure is a name, perhaps common in ancient times, or badly translated by the unnamed voice powers, but as it is, Alexander will have to get used to it. "He is incredibly smart.”
Who smiled back, albeit a bit tired, holding on tighter to his wife’s hand.
Alexander got a feeling the man doesn’t agree. It annoyed him, people who can't even believe in themselves usually rarely get along with him.
It made Polites own smile dim a little, barely hiding his worries.
“I’m afraid I don't know what a quill is.” Polites focused on Alexander again. “But we have chariots.”
“Ha!” Mulligan and Lafauyette crowded him “My friend, how do you write-”
“Gentlemen please.” Who said, his eyes crinkled in good nature but the way he held onto Polites shoulder, snatching him away in a tight grip, didn’t match his tired smile “Give Polites space to breathe.”
“I know this time warp is exciting.” Washington agreed, still a tad distracted. “But refrain from harrasing our allies.”
“Yes sir.” They saluted in embarrasment, getting a smirk from Burr. That bastard.
“I don’t mind, they are just curious.” Polites laughed off, smiling more gently at his leader. Almost hopeful “We are in good company. You can relax my friend.”
“I don’t sense any ill will as well. You can rest, Od…” Penelope’s soft voice trailed off as she brushed his now dry and silky hair, tucking a white hair behind his ear “Oh dear. I’ll take care of talking, if anything happens I’ll be by your side,” a hint of fond amusement sneaked in her eyes “ I’ve always been better at diplomacy than you, my dear Who.”
His voice softened “You don’t have to, Penelope.”
“I want to,” She smiled, leading her husband to the first row of chairs, which he didn’t resist. Her eyes gained a worried glint at the way his legs gave out once he was down, holding on to his hand just as tightly as he held hers.
Her display of love reminded Alexander of Eliza.
He looked at his wife, who was watching the greek couple too, her soft smile widening when she glanced his way, making their eyes met.
Who mumbled, “I missed you so much, Pen.” In a smitten voice.
Eliza chuckled, eying her own husband fondly “Your wife misses you as well, Alexander.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to be together,” He sounded more frustrated than he wanted, inwardly slapping himself and adding a softer "I was sent back home, Eliza."
They'll have all the time in the world while the world will move on from them.
“You look different from history books.” Angelica commented, eying the blue details in Eurylochus' clothes, the faint purple of Penelope's, and the bright red of Who’s cape, “More colorful.”
“We are in history books?” Polites asked. “That’s exciting!”
Eurylochus and Who did not seem to agree. Penelope seemed curious, though she grew concerned at her husband's lack of enthusiasm, scratching his hair and making him close his eyes, grabbing the armrest separating his and his wife’s seat as if it had greatly offended him and blinking slowly when it trembled. Tentatively, he lifted the armrest, cracking a small smile at the lack of obstacles between him and his wife, and scooting closer to her.
“Easy there, only your culture is written down.” Hamilton immediately corrected. He likes Polites and all, the guy has this open and warm vibes to him that he hasn’t met much in life, but his words poked the ball of uncertainties that’s been pushing him his whole life. “People rarely get to become history.”
“I’m sure our captain will.” Polites lightly nudged Who “My friend tends to cause an impression.”
“You have too much faith in me.” Who’s smile didn't reach his half open eyes, leaning his head on his wife as if she was his life support.
With this attitude? Hamilton agrees, Polites has too much faith in this guy. He feels so weak and clingy. If he is at the top he needs to stand tall, set the standard!! No one will follow a captain that doesn’t believe in himself, much less immortalize the guy in the history books.
“But we will! We have shaken up the streets, we have started a revolution!” Alexander reassured, raising his hand to the skies as his friends chanted ‘revolution!’ to back him up, their voices making him raise his head higher, staring at the ceiling “Our names will be remembered! Won’t we, Assistir?!”
Laurens and Lafayette chanted their agreement. He loves his friends.
“Show yourself, drop some knowledge!” Laurens said, standing in one of the plush chairs in the room to get closer to the ceiling “Are you friend or foe?”
No answer.
Rude.
Washington seemed exasperated by their yelling, but he let people climb up the chairs and chant for answers, aware when words fail, persistent action has more chance to incite a reaction.
“We want answers!” Alexander yelled, “Reveal yourself!”
The room exploded with agreement, quiet and loud alike.
“At least give us instructions!” Eurylochus agreed with the revolutionaries, though he didn’t follow them when Mulligan and Lafayette started banging on the walls and stomping on the ground. Which unfortunately didn’t do so much as scratch either surface. “Why are we here?! What do you want?”
“I would like everyone to get comfortable in each other’s presence first.” The voice said, louder than any commotion they could create.
“Introductions and promises of peace have already been made.” Angelica said before Alexander could open his mouth, crossing her arms “Is that not enough?”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, where they couldn’t tell if the powerful thing that kidnapped them was thinking about this or offended to be argued with.
“...Very well, I’ll cut the meeting time short and explain the situation.” Assistir said “This room is separated from time and space, no mortal or god can break out of it. No wall can be damaged.”
No one liked that.
Even the owl screeched with hatred, flapping its wings to appear bigger and startling the hell out of half of the room. It presence far closer than it was before. When did it sneak on them??
“Christ," Burr jumped "I forgot there was an owl here!”
“Cause it wasn’t there a minute ago!” Mulligan yelled, sweating as he glared at the owl “I swear! I looked for this cursed bird.”
The bird just stared, though he have a feeling it was judging them.
“So this is a prison.” Who said, sending the owl a strange look and going back to ignoring its existence. The owl's gaze strayed towards Washington after that.
“A temporary one.” This stupid faceless voice corrected.
“How kind of you.” Alexander mocked, itching to throw hands.
“I will show you animatics of a musical, moving drawings with songs.” Assistir explained, having the audacity to ignore Hamilton. “All you must do to be released…” even their wording makes this feel like a prison “…Is to watch them. Pay attention to each song. They will tell you about the past, the present, and the future-”
“Moving drawings? The future?!” Hamilton yelled louder, ignoring the wary look of the greeks. Do they want him to silently obey? When there is so much to be said? “We were fighting for a future before you dragged us here! We don’t have time to play guest with the likes of you!”
“Pipe down.” Who said, paying more attention to Polites and his wife than Hamilton “How about we try not to anger the being with full control of this room?”
Eurylochus gave his captain a look for that, but Alexander didn’t care to puzzle it out, annoyed by his interference.
“Put your bedtime on hold, old man.” Hamilton dismissed, getting an unimpressed look from the guy “If we don’t make noise nothing will change-”
“Mister Who has a point.” Washington took the stranger’s side, cutting off Lauren's, Mulligan's, and Lafayette's attempt to defend him from these strangers who have no idea how important his fight for america is “You already got their attention, son-”
“Not your son.” He corrected, feeling a weight at the curious looks sent his way, but pushing it away.
“-This could be our only chance to get back.”
Hamilton shut up.
“Thank you. Once you finish watching everything I have to share, you’ll be sent back to your respective places.” Assistir continued, and Alexander likes to believe his voice is what made them elaborate “Time does not move outside this room, you shall not lose a single minute of your life.” A beat of silence “You have my word.”
“That’s worth a lot for someone that can’t even show their face,” Alexander hissed under his breath.
“Please take a seat, I will start the first video when everyone calm down.”
“We’ll take the second row.” Washington ordered, likely not wanting the strangers out of his sight, nor to fight the weird owl that can seemingly disappear at will.
Who nodded slowly, making a gesture that made Eurycholus approach him.
“Can we at least know how many videos we will be watching, Mr. Assistir?” Burr asked, awkwardly going “Lady…Assistir?”
“Sit down and I’ll show you the list.” The voice said, unbothered as always.
“There is a whole list.” Lafayette mocked, “Hoo hay!”
“Alexander will feel right at home.” Angelica teased, getting a snort from Burr who sat in the corner. Angelica picked the opposite corner of the same row, staying behind Eurylochus.
“Sit with me, sister.”
“Of course.” Eliza said, sitting down at Angelica’s side near the edge and smiling at Hamilton “Sit with us.”
He did as told, not minding this request.
“It could be fun.” Polites said, taking the seat beside his captain “The voice doesn’t seem to have ill intent, and the war is over.” He pointed at the sisters and the revolutionaries, smiling “We could make new friends.”
“We could.” Who indulged, but he seemed less open about it.
“Our war isn’t over.” Hamilton said.
Polites grew sympathetic, offering him a gentle smile “Then use it as an opportunity to rest, sir.”
‘Go home Alexander.’
“Rest.” Eliza agreed, holding his hand.
Alexander scowled, swallowing the petulant urge to say he doesn’t want to rest, yes he is tired from the war but still has a lot to do, resting is wasting time! It’s more stressful than getting things done. Eliza wishes him well, always worried for him, he knows that, and Polites has only been kind to him so far, seemingly not wanting anything in return. So he didn’t argue.
“I am not on board this.” Laurens said, jumping on Hamilton’s other side. Washington took the remaining second row seat, leaving Lafayette to seat beside Polites, who offered the frenchman a small wave, and Mulligan to seat on the edge of the first row, sparing Burr a side eye.
“Good.” Assistir sounded pleased “I will share two musicals, one is called Hamilton and will focus on the Americans. Its first act has 23 songs.”
“It's about me?” Alexander lit up, nearly jumping-off his chair at the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him, a mix of giggliness and anxiety and sheer joy shaking up his soul, making him restless. If they made an entire musical about him, it must mean he made a big impact in the world! He has a legacy! His story is worth being told!!
“23 songs? ” Burr didn’t seem excited, but he didn’t seem disgusted either. Mostly… curious? Perhaps exasperated? It’s hard to say, Alexander still doesn't know how to read him, finding it difficult to say what and who he likes or dislikes.
“First act?” Angelica asked. “How many acts will there be?”
“The other musical is focused on the greeks, its first act has 20 songs and the musical is called Epic.”
Who didn’t look impressed, nor Eurylochus, even Polites didn’t seem to know how to feel about it “I think it will be about you captain.”
“Cheers,” Who cheers didn’t sound all that cheerful, holding on to Penelope's hand.
Before more talking could start, the room went dark, putting everyone on edge for the brief seconds before a square of light appeared on the blank wall in front of them.