Actions

Work Header

To Write or to Die

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Notes:

I don't even know what I wanted to achieve with the second part of this chapter
Just go with it, I guess

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Your room.” Lee gestured at the door. “You can ask at any time if you have any questions or any problems,” he said, smiling. He didn’t mean it, Alexander could tell. He was unsure he’d ever seen a falser smile before. 

Alexander nodded at him as they stopped in front of the door, Alexander a step behind Lee. “Thank you.” Politeness. Did he want to be polite? No. But if Lee was feigning it, then Alexander would too, only that he was much more talented at it.  

Lee then opened the door to Alexander’s room, gesturing for Alexander to enter, to reveal... a broom cabinet? Alexander hesitated. Yes, he was a prisoner of some kind, but that was all he was, not Harry Potter. Well, not that the cabinet was under a staircase, but still close enough. How should Alexander remember a book he read in his childhood anyway? Here, it was forbidden, of course, most good books were.  

Lee lowered his arms slowly as he saw Alexander’s hesitation. “Mr. Hamilton, is there-” he interrupted himself when he turned his head to see what door he had opened. “Oh.” He shut his mouth. “Wrong door.” He smiled again, more embarrassed this time, not exactly fake.  

He walked them down two more doors, then opened another one. “This one.” 

This time, the door actually revealed a bedroom, and Alexander did not hesitate to enter. Lee stood behind him in the door, while Alexander admired the room. Sure, he’d known how big the palace was, he had seen it from outside, after all, but he didn’t expect that his room would be this big, so fancy.  

The whole room seemed to be as large as his apartment – his apartment he would not see in a long time, if ever, but that he was not going to miss – and less gray and cramped as well. It felt more like a really, really expensive hotel room than a room that would represent something alike to a prison. The walls were high, as all walls in the building were, and were painted with in a light blue with some kind of floral pattern. A little old-fashioned, maybe, but that was what Alexander would imagine if he thought about any room having to do with royalty. The were a large wardrobe and a door, likely to the bathroom, on the right wall, both made from dark wood, and a desk against the left wall. Opposite the door, under one of the two huge windows the room had, was a bed, looking like it had some more blankets than necessary and definitely expensive, but still normal-sized. There was also a weird golden mirror, looking way too old compared to the normal looking bed, hanging on the wall with a similar old-looking side table under it.  

Alexander turned around to thank Lee again, though he probably should rather thank Prince John instead, but Lee only smiled tightly once, then turned from the room without another word. Alexander was kind of relieved that he was gone. He’d never seen such an incompetent man, not even able to find the right room, in his life. First, he almost tripped over Alexander, which Alexander didn’t judge him for, stupid things happen, then had to ask several other people where Alexander’s room was exactly, walked extraordinarily fast, and his smell... well, it remembered Alexander a little too much of a not very clean public bathroom. He was a little proud of himself that he had continued breathing. 

He turned away from the door again. This was it then, this was his gilded cage. 

Well, he was allowed to move around a large part of the palace, but right now, he only wanted to lie down.  

And so he did, he landed with his back on the bed, like people would when they tested beds for the first time in a hotel. Alexander then breathed in deeply. The prince hadn’t said much more after Alexander accepted his deal, a woman of his staff had taken over. She had to be aware of his plan, and that had surprised Alexander a little. But then again, it made sense that some would know. Alexander thought that Prince John probably didn’t like being dependent on others, but whatever he wanted to do probably couldn’t be carried out entirely alone. And somehow, the prince apparently managed to recruit people in his father’s employee, very risky, to be sure.  

Alexander stared up at the ceiling for a while, the prince’s voice still echoing in his mind. God, what had he done? This was where he would stay now. He was told to ‘make himself at home’ by the woman who had spoken to him earlier, and in some way she was right. Unless he was ‘released,’ he would not be able to leave the palace again. And how long should that be? Months? Years? Decades? And if Prince John’s plan failed, what would happen to him? He realized that he likely needed his plan to succeed now, if he wanted to stay alive.  

Alexander almost laughed at the thought.  

If he wanted to stay alive.  

Had he not always said that he was ready to die? That he would rather die than to betray the revolution? Well, it was more the threat of Lafayette's death than his own that saved him from that, but he still felt like he would jump at every opportunity making his survival likelier now. There were too many things yet to be done in this world, and he wanted to be a part of it. Alexander wanted to see the success of his actions, he wanted to see freedom and the fall of the king. But to do these things, he had to live.  

How unlikely it was, that only now, in such a place as he was in now, realized that he never wanted to die. He wanted to get out of certain circumstances, yes, but death was never the right option, only most often the easiest. In this situation, other people would wish for the easier fate of death, but Alexander was determined to find another way out of this, no matter how difficult, no matter how long it would take. 

After more than half an hour of staring and thinking, his determination turned into tiredness, Alexander’s eyes beginning to slip close. He turned his head to the window and saw that the sun was beginning to set. It was only early in the evening, but God, he was tired. The day had been extremely exhausting, both emotionally and physically. On top of that, the night before he and Lafayette were preparing the protest, staying up until four in the morning and getting up at six again. Alexander thought he was too tired to even lift the blankets to slip under them or to undress (he didn’t have other clothes yet anyway) and so gave in, falling asleep within seconds.  

When he woke up, however, and his eyes wandered to the window again, he noticed that the sun wasn’t entirely set yet. He couldn’t have been asleep for long. Then Alexander heard the knock on the door again and remembered why he woke up again.

“Yes?” he called tiredly, sitting up slowly.  

Not two seconds later, the door opened to reveal a woman in probably her early thirties, dark brown hair and dressed in a dark suit, similar to all people he had seen that day. It took Alexander a few seconds to realize it was the same woman he had spoken to earlier, the one who discussed the details of his stay with him.  

“Good evening, Mr. Hamilton,” she said with a polite smile. After being stuck with Lee for over twenty minutes, Alexander appreciated a real smile.  

“Good evening,” he echoed quietly. 

The woman stepped into his room, closing the door behind herself. “I only come to tell you that to the outside word, Alexander Hamilton and the Marquis de Lafayette are dead now, executed by the king on the same day of their capture.” 

Alexander needed a moment to take this in. “We are dead?” 

“His Highness, Prince John, thought it necessary to have you killed officially, to show your people what happens to them if they get captured.” She spoke as if she was fake killing people every day, as if there was nothing concerning about it at all.  

“It’s a part of his plan...” Alexander muttered. “If even we are defenseless, then they’ll think they are defenseless against the king as well.” 

“Exactly.” She nodded. “I also come to ask you if you have any questions or complaints about your room.” 

Ah, so they were changing the subject so quickly? It really was entirely normal to her, was it? Had they fake killed people before? 

“No, I am fine,” Alexander replied slightly hesitant. 

“Your dinner will be delivered to you within the next thirty minutes. As to your work, His Highness will send one of us or inform you himself when he has something to do for you. Until then, make the best of your stay here. As you know, you are free to move around the west wing, but we’d ask you not to wander around the palace after ten in the evening.” 

Alexander only nodded. 

“By the way, my name is Jessica Valmont. If you have any questions or problems, you’re always able to call me. There is also a phone in your desk, if you want to call, there are also all the numbers of the people who will have something to do with you. Calls are monitored. Please be careful to whom you speak of what, you can never know how much people are allowed to know.” 

“Got it,” was all Alexander replied. 

“I will see you soon then, good evening, Mr. Hamilton.” She waited a second, but when Alexander didn’t reply at all she turned around and left his room again.  

They were dead.  

He only just realized how much his life actually meant to him, but to the world, Alexander Hamilton was dead now. He had died without any big accomplishments, without having done something that people would remember him for. If he was lucky, he'd be this one guy that got killed by the king once, but nothing more than that. Who would remember him anyway, when he was a rebel in their eyes? Maybe his friends would remember him, mourn him even, the very men that still believed in the revolution that he would help to stop now. Alexander didn’t deserve their grieve.  

There was always the chance that they would succeed and that he would be free one day to see them again, would they know what he had done? Would be a traitor to them? And would they judge him for it? Do people judge traitors when the someone has betrayed a cause that was set up to fail and instead supported the plan that really ended up succeeding?  

Then Alexander also thought about Lafayette, now imprisoned somewhere not far away from him but still a place he couldn’t visit, Jessica had told him that earlier. Lafayette had grown so close to Washington in the few months he had been in this country, almost like a son, and now the leader of their revolution thought that this son had been killed by the king without second thought. He would grieve for him, to be sure. Alexander imagined how Washington would have to call Lafayette’s wife, to tell her that her husband died such a useless death. 

Alexander got angry. He may be free to go around the palace, but he was captured all the same. He only existed within the palace walls, because to the world outside it, Alexander Hamilton no longer lived.  

He hated it all so much already. 

What he didn’t consider before now was how much his life would change now. They had just pulled him out of it, without any warning in advance, he was just gone. That probably made his death all more realistic. 

When his food came, Alexander pushed the tray away after one minute of staring at it, despite not having eaten for almost a whole day. When he didn’t have more energy to hate or do anything at all he spent most of his time on his first night pacing around needlessly, sitting in the chair by the desk and staring out of the window or lying on the bed staring upward to the ceiling until he was almost blinded by the lamp that was way too bright. Alexander barely slept the first night and got up before the sun had fully risen the next morning. 

*** 

It took Alexander two more days of pointless waiting before he decided to actually leave his room. Nothing had happened. He had not heard of the prince again, he barely saw people other than the guy who brought him his food, and the only thing he could do in his room was to stare out the window, sleep, or take baths in his giant bathtub. What did he need a giant bathtub for? He didn’t know, but there were bubbles, so that was something. They also brought Alexander more clothes, all pretty basic and some looking and feeling way too expensive. The first day, he tried to deny that he liked them because he didn’t want to appreciate anything coming from the palace, but on the second day he had to admit to himself that some new clothes did sound nice. He still thought, though, that owning three different suits was pretty unnecessary, especially when he wouldn’t be able to leave the palace anyway. Alexander also found out that he basically could have some kind of room service if he wanted to, and so decided to ‘order’ himself enough wine to get wasted. No one cared if he did.  

But then, on the fourth day in his huge gilded cage, Alexander decided to leave his room after all. He wandered around aimlessly, actually having no idea where he was going, until he found the one room that he decided would be his favorite from now on.  

He opened the door to a giant library, and giant really was an understatement. Alexander felt like he was in a movie when he saw bookshelves stacked to the ceiling, the sun shining in through a huge window and ladders so even people his size would be able to reach the books, though Alexander thought that even Lafayette or the prince would need a ladder in here, and next to Lafayette he always felt like a dwarf.  

A part of his enthusiasm faded, however, when he remembered how censored most of the books must be. Anything featuring an imperfect king? Forbidden. Anything about any revolution? Forbidden. The king censored history, only so his subjects wouldn’t get any wrong ideas.  

In the end, Alexander did spend about four hours in the library, taking one of these four hours for choosing a book.  

When he almost fell asleep reading, he decided that it was probably about time to go to bed, taking the book with him even though he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. He didn’t really care, if he was being honest. 

On his way back, two women and one man walked past him, two of the carrying some boxes and one of the women carried around a car tire. Why would she be needing a car tire in here? Well, Alexander decided not to question it any further. 

When they walked away, Alexander thought he heard them giggle behind him. He thought he only misheard or that they were simply joking, when he heard one of them say, “hush, he’s his biggest hope, remember?” in a tone that was so sarcastic that it turned into mocking, even though he clearly wasn’t meant to hear it.  

Alexander slowly turned around and saw that the group walked around a corner. He hesitated for a few seconds, then decided to follow them. If they were gossiping about him, he did want to hear it, and he was allowed to explore the whole west wing, after all.  

“Like, you seem him in these photos, all confident and yelling, but Jess says he’s pretty quiet.” Alexander peaked around the corner. It was the tire girl.  

“Jess also said the prince won’t shut up about him,” the guy said, “Is it okay to say that it kinda reminds me of his Francis friend.” 

The other girl laughed. “How can you speak his name, Mark, it is forbidden, have you forgotten than?” She gestured around with her arms and spoke in a deeper voice, probably mimicking the prince. 

“Yeah right,” the tire girl said, “he’s not king yet, so as long as his plan doesn’t work, I’m only following orders because I have to.” When she continued speaking, Alexander heard the smirk in her voice, “Also because I don’t have anything to lose. I mean, when it’s getting out of hand, I can always deny that I ever knew about any of this.” 

“Seriously May,” the guy – Mark – sounded hesitant, “sometimes I sincerely doubt if you should know this.” 

“Yeah,” the other girl added. “You know he’s placing our trust in us. Also, we have to be able to trust each other. Like, I know I can trust you, but if someone else had that attitude, I wouldn’t be sure if they’d betray His Highness and tell it all to the king.” 

“But as you said, you can trust me, and I’m not gonna tell on his little plan. Like, he is right that King Henry can’t go on like this forever, but I definitely think there are good ways and bad ways.” 

“And the Hamilton guy is definitely not a good one,” Mark exclaimed, rather loudly.  

That was when the group cut another corner and Alexander decided not to follow them any longer. He didn’t want to hear any more of their gossip. But what he did know now was that he was a part of a plan that even the prince’s own staff mocked, and that they especially didn’t like that he was involved, Sure, he only heard the opinions of three people, but he knew that they definitely weren’t the only ones to think that way. In the end, he also didn’t know how many people actually were aware, though he would guess it would have to be a rather big part of the staff, if they were discussing their opinions so openly and not exactly quietly.  

But was it important that people weren’t thrilled about his involvement? He probably wouldn’t be either. After all, his beliefs, or at least the way to go about them, were pretty opposite to Prince John’s way to go about them, so why should anyone trust the succeed of that? Alexander even doubted it himself. 

As there was nothing better to overthink, the conversation he overheard between the staff members continued to occupy his mind for almost the rest of the day. Only when his spiraling thoughts about the prince and the plan and the conversation and his supposed death and Lafayette and his other friends and Washington and the revolution kept him from falling asleep, he instead decided to ponder over the question whatever the reason could be for someone to carry a single tire around the palace until his brain couldn’t come up with more answers and he finally fell asleep. 

 

 

 

Notes:

I hate reading about people eavesdropping, especially when the people make it incredibly easy for them. So I... did exactly that
Please do hate me for that, thank you