"Do I have to go?"

Little eight year old (Y/N) choked up. Dried tears stained her cheeks as her glossy eyes started to become swollen with red. She looked up to her uncle that stood in front of her.

He was a tall man with powerful shoulders, a fierce dark face, a mountain of black curly hair, and eyes that seemed to flash and glitter with power. It was a face to be dominated by, or to fight: never a face to patronize or pity. All his movements were always large and perfectly balanced, like those of a wild animal, and when he stood over the young girl, he seemed to be a wild animal held in a cage too small for it. Nevertheless, he always seemed to make (Y/N) laugh when he came over to visit her and her mother. Well, when her mother was alive.

It's been three months since she died, and

(Y/N) has been living with her uncle since then. But of course, he has a family and was not able to hold her for much longer.

"(Y/N), listen to me." He said softly, while he got on his knees to be at eye level with her. He took his hand and gently brushed it against her cheek to wipe away the free tears. "You will be fine. Your Aunt Martha will be waiting for you in America."

(Y/N) took a deep breath and jumped into her uncle's arms. "I love you uncle Lafayette." She whispered into his ear. "Je t'aime aussi." He whispered back before pulling away. "Now go onto the boat."

(Y/N) turned around to face the large wooden boat sitting at the docks. A small crowd was gathered around it and were starting to get on. She grabbed the bags at her sides and walked over to the boat.

As she stepped up onto the old wooden ship, she turned around to face her uncle and the country of France one last time. She smiled and waved, as he did the same towards her. She relaxed a little and tried to enjoy the smell of alcohol, and the sounds of men, women, and children run around on the deck.

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A month of the boat swaying back and forth made (Y/N) feel sick. When ever the boat hit a wave, her stomach clenched with fear and regurgitation. Nevertheless, she was forced to get used to it, there was nowhere else she could go.

She stood at the edge of the ship, watching the new world unfold. The salty sea was intoxicating her nose. She scrunched it up in disgust. In France, the smell of fresh baked bread and sugary treats lined the streets, not salt and beer.

As the boat crashed into the sand, people pushed their way though so they can be the first to step on land. (Y/N) grabbed the bags at her sides and pushed her way through the crowds of people, which was not difficult to do because of her size.

A cold finger ran down her back as she walked down the wooden ramp. Crowds of people started to push their way through, making the little girl get cold with fear. Just as she was about to cry, a hand grabbed her wrist, and she was yanked out of the crowd into a small clearing. "Are you (Y/N), sweetie?"

She looked up and saw a tall woman with delicate brown hair pulled into a bun, and a bright blue bonnet to complete the look. Her soft brown eyes gave her a kind appearance, but the dress she wore made her seem that she was Mrs. Perfect, with its dark blue silk and white outlines. Her nose was big, which reminded (Y/N) of Lafayette. The thought made her face drop, for she knew that she would probably never see him again.

"Oh honey, are you okay? Don't cry, I'm right here." Martha said while scooping up the little girl in her arms. "The way you cry is so similar to your father's. Oh, bless his soul."

Martha brought (Y/N) to a carriage that held a southern looking coachman in the front, and a bright-eyed, black-haired male in the back with a baby girl in his arms, and two little girls sitting behind him. The little girls looked exactly like Martha, but had a touch of the man next to them with their looks.

"Hi!" The older little girl said excitedly as she waved at (Y/N). "Elenor, please calm yourself. We have to ride to the Hamilton's quickly. They invited us to dinner and it would be horrid if we showed up late." Martha said as she furrowed her brows. She jumped into the carriage with (Y/N) on her lap. She leaned her head out the window and yelled at the coachman.

"Author! Go, we have to get there quickly! The sun is setting!"

The whip let out a smacking sound against the horses, and the carriage jerked into motion, away from the docks. (Y/N) watched painfully, for just a month ago she was in France, now she was in measly New York.

She made small talk with the little girls and their father, who she apparently had to call Uncle David.

Silence surrounded the carriage as the only sound was the rumbling of the rocks on the side of the road being pushed away. She decided to break the quiet by asking a simple question.

"Aunt Martha, who are the Hamilton's?"

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>"Ah! The Ramsay's! Please come in." A tall woman with long gleaming black hair, and brown eyes answered the door and motioned them inside the large, wooden house. (Y/N) looked up at the woman and tried to figure her out. She seemed quiet and kind, good attributes to a mother. The thought of a mother left a sour taste in (Y/N)'s mouth, as she let all the memories of her mother seep into her slowly.

She felt that she was going to cry, but was stopped by a kind voice interrupting her thoughts. "Now who is this beautiful young lady?" The woman asked, who's name apparently she didn't catch. She tried to speak, but all that came out were stutters and slurred words.

"This is Miss Laurens." Aunt Martha interrupted. The woman raised her brows as (Y/N) turned to look at her. It looked like the woman didn't recognize the name. "It's.... It's John's daughter." Martha spoke once again.

The woman stumbled back a bit, placing a hand to her chest in shock. "John Laurens?" She spoke finally while resting her body against the wall. "Y-Yes." Martha answered while placing her hands on (Y/N)'s shoulders.

"I-I..... I better get Alexander." The woman sighed and looked down, but she looked back up and smiled weakly. "I think he'd want to know." And with that, she left the room, leaving the Ramsay's alone in the hallway.

(Y/N) pulled on Martha's sleeve. "Who was that?" She asked. Martha sighed and took her hand, holding it tight. "That's the wife of your Dad's best frie-" "Ah! The Ramsay's!" A voice interrupted.

(Y/N) looked to the way it was coming from and saw a tall man walking towards them. His long brown hair was down, resting on his shoulders, while his eyes held nothing but debilitation. His face had little wrinkles and dark circles, indicating that he's probably a workaholic. Martha squeezed (Y/N)'s hand harder, making her wince.

Alex shook hands with everyone of the Ramsay's with a smile, then turned to (Y/N). He bent down in front of her and grinned a cheeky smile, which made her giggle. "Who is this lovely young lady?"

Silence surrounded the hallway, for none of them wanted to be the one to say. Finally, Alex's wife spoke up. "Alex, this...... this is John's daughter."

(Y/N) never saw anyone stand up so quickly in her entire life. She watched with fear as he backed away into his wife's arms. "Oh....." was the only word he could speak before rubbing his swollen eyes with his hand.

"Hey Alex..... why don't we get a drink?" Uncle David intervened, walking over to him and talking his shoulder. Alex nodded in agreement and walked away with him.

Alex's wife twiddled with her fingers as she looked at the floor. "Why don't we have have some tea Martha. The children are in their rooms, so if they want, Elenor, Martha..." She hesitated with (Y/N)'s name. "And (Y/N) can go upstairs and play."

"That would be lovely." Martha said, as she nudged all of them up the staircase. (Y/N) was dragged into a playroom by her smiling cousins, who didn't understand what she was feeling right now. It was a mix of pity and sadness, for she seemed to be the one who reminded everyone about her father.

She let a sigh as she was unexpectedly pushed on top of a small boy by Elenor. They both landed to the floor with a thud. (Y/N) groaned with pain as she sat up and looked at the boy she was on top of.

She saw a curly, brown haired child, that had freckles splattered across his face. Her cheeks lit up as she pushed herself off of him. "I-I'm so sorry."

The boy finally opened his eyes and scratched his head, leaving open silence between them. The boy's eyes went wide by seeing this new girl in front of him. He couldn't help but to giggle. "It's okay."

(Y/N) couldn't help but to get lost in his eyes. They were chocolate brown, with a tint of inspiration. She bit her tongue, preventing her from saying anything. The boy seemed kinda weirded out by her not saying a word.

"Umm..... do you have a name?" He asked shyly. (Y/N) stuttered a bit, trying to make a word but failing miserably. She finally squeezed out a sentence in her dry throat.

"(Y/N) Laurens."

The boy smiled and extended out a hand for her to shake.

"Philip Hamilton."