Olivia And Alexander Reunion

Olivia and Alexander Reunion

Olivia POV/1st Person

I walked to the edge of the camp looking for a somewhat high-ranking soldier to take me to the commander of the Continental Army.

“Halt! Who goes there?” a blue coat announced loud and clear. Bingo. I was wearing a simple light blue dress with a cloak, the hood covering my face.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he questioned in a commanding voice. “Hello, my name is Olivia Hamilton and I need to see General George Washington,” I answered him.

“Why do you need to see his Excellency?” he asked, now cautious and suspicious. “Please, sir, it is urgent. I can only say it to his presence and no one more.” I pleaded.

“Miss Hamilton, I have been expecting you,” a man said with the same uniform, but with a blue sash and grey potato hair. Seriously what is up with that? He is the only one with potato hair. I looked around and the entire army with their guns out, but thankfully not pointed towards me.

Their expressions however are mixed with shock, confusion, and apprehension. I looked to the right of Potato Hair Man and saw someone that looks almost exactly like me. Vibrant red hair, violet-blue eyes, a little bump on the nose, cream skin with peach blush covering the freckles on each cheek, nose, and ear, and looks about 5’7 frame.

The only difference between us is that I was a few centimeters taller than him, while he had coily curls, I had more soft curls, my hair was longer than his and braided into a plait hanging on my right shoulder, while he was tied into a ponytail with a blue ribbon and a single curl that rested on the side of his face.

I took off the hood to show my face, violet-blue met violet-blue.

“Via?” he said in a small voice.

“Xander?” I said in the same tone.

We ran towards each other, not believing that our half was right in front of us. I trapped him in a hug that a mother does to her child. After our own died due to Yellow Fever, I had to take care of him all by myself. He still smelled of mint, ink, and parchment, now accompanied by coffee.

I flicked his forehead, “Ow! Via what was that for?!” he yelled at me, clearly in pain. “Where have you been! I received a letter back in ‘72 that the ship you were in sank and you died! I am your older sister and I demand you to tell me what happened.” I ignored his retort saying I was only older by 30 seconds.

He huffed and stomped his foot on the ground like the child he is, “Fine, I will tell you later.” I examined his face again, not liking the fact that his face was a few shades lighter than mine and the dark circles under his eyes.

“And pray tell, brother dearest,” I said in a cold, chilling voice. He knew that whenever I use this tone, he was done for, “Why is your face paler than usual and why does it look like you haven’t slept in days?”

He fidgeted under my stare and after a while, I got impatient, “Alexander George Hamilton!” said 22-year old stood up straighter at the commanding voice. “All right! I haven’t slept in weeks and not eat a lot in order to do the paperwork for His Excellency!”

I was furious, but also confused. “Hold on, the man who has the potato-like hair is George Washington?” Snorts and muffled laughter were heard from the soldiers, clearly not wanting to anger him. Speaking of him, I ran to him at a fast speed and flipped him over my shoulder. Lucky for him, we were on grass not pavement, and I dragged him by the leg to a nearby tent. I glared at any soldier who was in my way.

In the distance, I heard someone speak. “Should we…” trailed a man with blonde hair and a ridiculous helmet. “No, you should not, because once you make my sister angry, you are done for. But do not worry, she would just yell at him. I hope.” he added the last sentence in a hushed tone, but everyone heard.

Once we were inside, I did exactly what my brother said, yell at him. Once I was satisfied, we got out of the tent, and into the General’s office.

“I believe that you wanted to speak to me, Miss Hamilton?” he asked in a calm, but wary tone. “Yes, I want to be a spy and only you and your most trusted advisors can only know about this. I have already thought of a cover name; Denise Melody. Her background information is that her father and brothers are sick and in order to make money, she needs to become a maid. I will somehow turn my red locks black and speak with a Dutch accent. I will board a ship to England and be hired by the King. There I will write you letters about what I have learned.” He looked intrigued about my plan and asked for more details about it. In the end, he agreed.

But now, I need to force my younger, very stubborn brother to take more care of himself.