Hamilton One Shots

Ask Of You (2)

Requested by: Brenna-Hamiltrash & bessiesc

After what seemed to be a long amount of time for two people to kiss, and for a doting father to face the opposite way in disgust, the lovebirds broke apart. Philip caressed her cheek, letting her lean into his palm again.

He beamed down at her, with a loving gaze that no one had ever given her before. She was utterly the most beautiful creature in that entire city. And so he guessed, the world.

Theodosia almost allowed herself to fall under his spell, but she remembered what awaited her at home. Her father could have woken up in the time she was gone. He would be terribly upset with her if he found out. Heart throbbing at an alarming rate, she whispered, "I-I must go. He'll wonder where I've gone."

Oh no. Philip swallowed down the forming lump in his throat anxiously. He'd forgotten after kissing the life out of his secret girlfriend just how much trouble the both of them could get into. He imagined his father storming towards him, shouting how inappropriate the eighteen year old's behavior had been.

Flinching at the thought, the boy patted her back gently. She took it as an offer to hurry off, for her legs began pumping forward into the snow, towards the ladder. Philip grabbed her arm when he realized what she was doing.

"Theodosia," he breathlessly said. Curls of brown tangled into a mess of snow and passion, his childhood friend looked like an angel among the weather spiraling around their bodies. He held out his hand and squeezed hers in it.

"I love you."

Frozen in her spot, Theodosia felt her cheeks flush into a blossoming red color. She stammered to reply, to give him the same promise in return, but all that came out was a surprised laugh. "I love you too," she finally whispered back at him.

With a tug of his hand, the two teenagers hurried off down the building. If anyone recognized them in the streets at such an hour, word would get around quicker than they could explain it to their own parents. Whispers would fill the alleyways and their family names would face yet another downfall.

As they climbed down the ladder, supporting one another, neither heard the sound of a man sobbing behind one of those marble pillars. His head hung down towards the snow, but there wasn't any mistaking the name that went to the man's face.

Aaron crumbled into a heap. In the distance, the sound of the gleeful teenagers was still loud and clear. He covered his mouth, muffling the sobs that only came out as pure agony.

From the moment his daughter had been born, he'd been there every step of the way. He had given her an education, an opportunity at life for a girl her age. He sheltered her from threats, such as the boys who crushed on her.

Theodosia had been his priority. Always. She had been that one light in his life to keep going and never stop. After her mother died, the world fell down on him. She was the one to come to him late in the night and tend to his every need. The two of them understood each other from that point on.

And there was no denying how close the father and daughter were. Unlike other families in the new country, they took pride in what little they had, rather than what they could reach for.

But that was just the problem with the arrangement of Philip and Theodosia. He knew how pleased he should feel for her, how assuring he had to be in their future, but all that aside, the eighteen year old was everything Aaron loathed.

He loathed the boy's father, the talk that probably went on behind closed doors, and the idea of his daughter being swept into that terrifying reality of a family. An image of his Theodosia embracing her possible father in law clouded his mind. Aaron shuddered out loud.

But the man didn't let that one thing affect him for much longer. He heaved himself up on both feet, showing only the empty sky above how strong he truly was. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he could see the two of them.

Frightened, Aaron fled behind a pillar. Indeed he had been wrong. But not completely. In the distance, the sound of the giddy teenagers was still echoing around the buildings. Their laughs, whispers, and promises of a life together stabbed him deeper in the heart.

"Oh, how you've repaid me," Aaron hissed to himself. His hands curled into fists. Everyday he had worked for his daughter. And now she'd thrown that all away for love that he would never allow her to go through with.

All his work to get her an education, to make her better than any of his enemy's children, had been flushed down the drain right there and then. Sucking in a breath, which scratched at his throat like thorns, Aaron began to head for the ladder to hurry home.

Theodosia would be disappointed, a sudden voice whispered in his head. Aaron flinched at the words, physically wrapping his arms around his body. The sound of his breathing was escalating by the second, but he dug his nails into the cloak on his shoulders.

Betrayal tore his heart apart the more he thought about his dear wife. She hadn't died to see her family become a wreck as it was. Aaron wouldn't ever intend on leaving it that way. He was going to show Theodosia where she'd gone wrong and how they could fix things.

"You will curse the day you did not do," he finally muttered harshly under his breath. For that moment, the deed seemed complete. Then and there the revenge had been cast upon the two lovers. He would tear them apart if it was the last thing he'd do.

Suddenly Aaron realized something. No. He recalled the late evenings his daughter begged for a story. How he had replied with stories about her mother and him sending flirtatious letters, but privately, for she was with another fellow. It never occurred to him that Theodosia would think of the secrecy of his relationship could ever inspire her own.

With his head stuck in politics, and barely in his daughter's relationships, he had completely forgotten their whole connection as a father and daughter. She looked up to him. Anything he said was music to her ears. And he had managed to go to far with the playing.

. . . . . . . . . .
A/N: Thank you Brenna-Hamiltrash and bessiesc for the request! I really enjoyed writing a second part for this, since the reprise fit well into something of Burr's point of view about the situation. So if you hadn't figured out yet, anyone else reading this, the second part's based on All I Ask Of You (reprise) from The Phantom Of The Opera, just like the first one.