Book and Quill (Philip x Reader)

Chapter ~ 1

(Mother POV).

"The war is finally over, I can finally go to America so that Y/n's father may see his child," I said excitedly to my friend. The Frenchman chuckled.

"So you settled with the name Y/n?" he asked.

"Y-Yes, I mean... Y/n was my sister's name, and she's long gone. Here's my way to remember her," I smiled. The older man in front of me sighed.

"I would love to escort you, however, I just returned and-"

"No excuses needed Monsieur Lafayette, I just appreciate you meeting your goddaughter," I nodded, cradling my child in my arms.

"She's the sweetest thing..." Lafayette bent down and held out his finger to the child. The child, absent-minded to what she was grabbing, lifted both of her hands to grab the Marquis' finger. Her chubby little fingers barely covering the flesh.

"Well, I must be going now, bon voyage," the man bowed to me and walked away. I hold out my ticket to the person at the docks, who took the tickets gingerly, escorting me into the bunkers to where I will be sleeping. I should have prepared for that agonizing stench, it makes my lightheadedness worse than it already is. I had just recently recovered from a fever, so I'm not in the best condition. But I just couldn't wait to go to America. I already sent the letter.

Sick or not, I'm going to my husband.

~~ ~~

Y/n's POV

"Papa!! You scared me!" I squealed. Papa chuckled, grabbing my hand gently.

"How was your first day of school?" Papa asked. I opened my mouth to respond but then remembering everyone's stares and sitting alone at lunch, all that came out was, "It went quite well," I lied.

"That's good," Papa nodded. I looked down at my f/c skirt. My father worked so hard to get me into school, I could never ruin it just because of the first day jitters. Hold it in, don't let it out.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me, I love you Y/n," my father bent down to peck me on the head before walking into the house. I slowly followed, walking up the stairs to my room. I am currently six years old. My father was rich, and he grew from polishing shoes. I liked every subject in school. Especially... writing...

I picked up a quill and started scribbling on a fresh piece of paper. Winging it with words that I didn't know about, placing in complex sentences and putting my emotion into my sloppy handwriting. I kept going, writing a letter to someone I didn't know who, until I felt the end of the quill scrape onto the table. I sigh and reread the letter, soon crumbling it into a ball and shoving it in the waste bin.

"I really want to write letters... but I dunno who to write it to..." I grumbled, placing my body on my bed. I looked up at the ceiling for an ounce of motivation to move. I sat up, curling my knees to my chest and hugging my skirt. Taking the bun out of my hair, I look at the window, allowing curly locks of h/c hair to fall to my shoulders. I catch a glimpse of the house next door. The Hamiltons...

Maybe I could... send a letter to Philip? Philip was fairly popular at the school, usually for being a war vet's son. I bumped into him walking down the hallway. So I'm sure they wouldn't mind... Right?...

Little did I know I made a choice that changed the whole course of my life.

I lifted the quill and dipped it in the ink, ready to write a letter. My first letter to someone. How exciting.

  Dearest Philip,

It has come to my attention that you are my neighbor. I send this letter to satisfy myself in writing a letter to someone. I hope this does not bother you, for a sudden letter to show up at your door seems unneeded. If you do not wish to proceed in reading this letter, you may throw it in your fireplace or in a waste bin. I won't mind.

I hope that I may convince you before too many suns rise, that the rumors you hear about my father being a traitor in the revolutionary war are completely absurd. My father was a French fighter, coming from Paris. He fought in the war with his brother and left my mother in France for the reasons of safety. I hope that you of all people may understand.

As you should know, I'm writing this letter to you because I enjoy the pleasure of writing letters. However, it is never a complete letter without sending the letter to someone. I could just be sending letters all the way to France to my Godfather. Also, known as you're father's friend. However, he never writes back. He usually writes back after three months or so, and sometimes the letter never makes it.

What I mean is, I heard you are a very poetic writer. I hear a lot of people talking about you not willing to share these poems with other people. I would be happy to exchange letters like these for poems like yours. Consider this an invite to become your penpal. I will not be offended if you decline my request. This is fairly sudden and may surprise you mostly because you never knew of my family name.

Anyway, if you actually read this letter down in this final paragraph, tomorrow, I'll be waiting by the fountain in the morning. If you find interest in this letter, I would like to meet you there. This is all sudden, but so exciting. I've always wanted to write to someone. Of course, if you would like to write to me back, I would accept that as well. Same with ignoring this.

I believe that is all I can say for now. Thank you for reading it up to here.

With Care,
Y/n L/n

I reread the letter, nodding to myself. This turned from a random letter to a friend request. I may be just six, but my mind is older. I wipe the end of the quill with a rag and placed it next to my ink pot, pushing the cork in the entrance of the glass container. I wait for the ink to dry by dragging my chair to the window, looking out to the small town below. This is so random... but I'm determined to see what would happen.

I could make a complete fool of myself,

or make a new friend.

I wait until sunset. Standing up from the chair and tapping the ink with my fingers. I look to see no ink stains. I neatly fold the letter together and put in swirly letters, For Philip H. I gulp. Okay, I can turn back now. Final chance... final answer?...

"Papa, I'm heading to town to drop something off," I inform my father, tucking the letter behind my skirt. Papa looked at me for a spit second before shrugging.

"Alright, just be home before nightfall," the man nods and returns to reading whatever he was reading. I let out a sigh of relief.

"I will," I said as I shut the door. I walk slowly down the street, watching wagons pass and go, carefully holding the letter in my hand to not crumple it in my fear. Now I decide to become nervous? I finally reach the mailbox to the Hamilton Estate. Their fancy white mailbox with a silver 'H' on both sides. I open it to see many envelopes stacked in it already, so I slid mine on top, quickly closing the mailbox. "Angelica, honey, go get the mail now," a sweet voice called from the inside of the house. Absolutely terrified, I walk quickly down the street just as a girl with curly h/c locks stepped out of the door.

I did it.

I finally sent a letter to someone.

Now I just need to see if he will read it.

Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter uwu

Alright then, bye now.