Kings College (Philidosia/Phildosia Fan Fiction)

Chapter 13

"Nooooooooooo!" I scream as I see Philip colliding with the ground of our dining room.

"She's my baby girl! You, a Hamilton!" Papa screeches with such venom, prepared to slap Philip once more.

"Papa No!" Without thinking, I reach for my father's arm, pulling him back. He turns to me with alarmed eyes, shocked at me defending him. "Don't hurt him!"

"You're defending a Hamilton! Do you know what you're saying!?"

"Hey! Aaron! How dare you talk about my son like that!" Alexander gets up, coming towards us. Elizabeth pulls him back.

"It's not my fault your name is full of criminals!" Papa shouts. "I will never have my daughter join such a horrible family like yours."

"Papa! Just because you don't like Alexander doesn't mean Philip did anything wrong!" I tell him, forcing his face to look at me.

"Why him! He's nothing but a scoundrel."

Philip stands, clutching his cheek and looking with wild eyes. The fear etched in his eyes is deeper than I've ever seen, and the sight has my heart dropping to my feet. Papa lifts his hand, and I know he's planning to strike him again. Ditching my father's arm, I take a stand in front of Philip.

"Get out of the way Theodosia!"

"No!" Tears begin to make little waterfalls down my cheeks. "Don't do it!"

"Theodosia, don't-" Philip protests, but I told up a hand.

"Shush, Philip."

"Theodosia Elizabeth Burr Jr, get out of the way or else." Papa demands.

"No! I-I-," what excuse, what excuse.

"You what?"

"Love him! I love him!" I shout, "You would never hurt my love, would you?"

"Theodosia..." his voice cracks, his eyes watering. I place a hand over my mouth at the sight of a broken father.

Now it's Alexander's turn to fight. "No! Philip, I forbid you to marry a ****!"

Gasping at his words, I take turn to face him. Philip puts an arm around my waist.

"She's no ****! She's my love, and I wouldn't trade her for the world." Philip states. "Please, don't you understand?"

Alexander snarls, walking towards us quickly. I break from Philip's grip to back up. Mr Hamilton takes Philip's ear in his hand and drags him out. Elizabeth follows angrily. The door slams.

The tears continue, and Father turns towards me.

"Theodosia... are you going to marry Philip against my will?" He asks, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Y-yes. I'm sorry Papa, I must." My heart rips in part at the sight of my father's watery eyes. He stares to the ground, swallowing.

"I see. Well then," he doesn't know what to say. So he points to the stairs, "go to bed."

I nod, feeling the burning sensation of even more tears. Racing up the stairs, I kick my door closed and collapse into my bed with tears and sobs. The loud bawling is probably heard in China, but I'm too caught up in tears to even acknowledge the volume I'm at.

I don't love Philip, I was merely lying to save both of our hinnies, however... I don't want him to be hurt. However, over the two weeks we've known each other, we've built a good bond. I trust him, I still won't put my love in him. He's a good man, though he lies, and I could be able to have a stable and sturdy life with him. The words my father said about him were lies upon lies and they didn't end, spreading like wildfire through his heart. I don't know how to convince him that Philip really isn't horrible and will treat me properly.

After the tears dried and all that remained was pink cheeks and confused hearts, I slowly sat from my position on my bed. I stood, sliding into my cold desk chair and slipping a bottle of ink and quill from my drawers. Sliding a paper from the stack, I began the only thing I knew how: writing.

Letting the words pour from me like water from a faucet, I put down everything that has happened as far as I can remember. Everything that's sparked tears and smiles and giggles, any emotion whether it be good or bad. I acknowledge my claimed title of 'General', my quarels' with William Yark, mother's death, graduating early, father's fight with Alexander, and all of the above. I take in account for everything I've done and said, revising if I can't remember correctly.

The writing drags into the night, when I can barely write a straight line and my candles about ready to die. I'm still not done. I have so much more to right, having yet not introducing Philip. Deciding to let myself take a break, I take my candle, more like pile of wax, and carry it downstairs to find a new one. Slowly walking downstairs, hand under the candle in case of rogue wax drop. I make it into the kitchen, placing it on the table and scavenging for a new fresh candle and happily finding an untouched one. Lighting the new and blowing out the old, I travel upstairs once more. Silent, but heart-wrenching sobs slowly shake the floor. Only someone who's reconisged those cries could feel the thunderous moan they send throughout the wooden planks holding our house together. I take the candle with me and venture around the corner. Into the cracked open door, and finding a sobbing Aaron Burr. His nightgown a mess, tears staining his face, a picture of my mother lied out on his bed. He's on his knees at the end, crying into the comforter.

Setting the candle quietly on the drawer, I look to his calender hanging on the wall. Dread fills me to the rim and over, as I read the date. I turn, then reread to be sure.

Sure enough, it lies, circled in red and darkening my heart. I knew immediately what Papa was crying over, he had a dark spell like this every year on December 17th.

For December 17th, marks the day my mother, his beloved wife Theodosia Burr Sr, passed away due to tuberculosis in her lungs.

How could I have forgotten? That's why he was so quick to judge, for he always is irrational during this time. But it is his loved wife, he loved her more than ever. I always knew this would come before him, so how could this even slip through my fingers.
Though that sentence was meant for figuratively than anything else, I find my staring at my hands. Wondering how anything could slide past the hazelnut color without my consent. The gentle hiccup of my father reminds me of his desperate sadness, and I rush to my father's side, soothingly rubbing his back as the already wet sheets turned an even darker shade of purple. He bawled, words not even coming out. The only time he didn't make a sob-like noise was when he sniffled. The site broke my heart, and I instantly knew what he was thinking.

"Shush, Papa." I tell him though he hasn't said a word, "don't feel like you need to act strong just because I'm here."

Leaning my head on his shoulder, I begin to remember my mother. Her soft, brown eyes, her gentle touch, and most importantly, her lessons. Being a woman, she'd have to teach me much at home. She would always leave a deeper understanding of the lesson, not just the intended one.

"She was so beautiful, and kind." He says in between sobs.

"She was..." I let a tear slip. "I remember when I was learning common denominators for fractions, she told me, 'There is always a common denominator in life, even if it needs a calculator. You will always find balance in your troubles, though it might seem impossible.' I had never understood what fractions had to do with compromise," I cry a little. "N-now I do. Now I definitely do."

Papa turns to me, his eyes puffy and red, and his tears slowly drying. He takes my head in his hands, pulling it to his chest for a hug. We embrace for a few minutes, tears flowing freely from both of us. When we pull away, he takes my head in his hands once more.

"Theodosia, you are more like your mother in every way." Pressing our foreheads together, Papa whispers. "You are my calculator."

A/N

When my sis read this she thought it sounded really romance-y, but I thought it was cute. You don't get much cute father-daughter romances.

Tell me what you think, is it too romance-y or is it just fathers loving their daughter?