Rewritten History (Hamilton OCs Collection)

War? Against us?

Jane's POV

 It's been three days since the King George incident. I voiced my opinion to my father; I prayed he would understand where I was coming from and help me and all the other women around the globe.
He hasn't spoken to me since.

Well, I definitely feel the love.

You could say he disowned me. I prefer to put it as: 'we came to a mutual agreement that I will live the rest of my days in sought for money without a name to my family.'

Goddamn my life.

I am honestly surprised my head has not been placed inside a basket by now - I almost hit the King.

God, I am an imbercile.

I almost hit the bloody King.

The bloody 'I-chop-heads-off-for-fun-and-rule-your-home-country' King.

If you could not tell, I am internally screaming.

Well, more like externally, but it is kinda difficult to scream when you're in the middle of a market with a tight corset on.

Also, people are giving me a weird look.

Is it because of the screaming or the fact that I'm wearing a £102 and 16 shillings dress and no-one around this area is rich.

I'm going to go with the dress.

Screaming's not that weird, right? And I'm not screaming that loudly-

"Jesus Christ, rich Lady, shut up!" some man walking past me grumbled, and soon the market was filled with mutters of agreements.

Was he talking to me?

'Cause, if he was, I feel honoured to have been the one to bring this bunch of miserable, mumbling peasant together.

As much as I love my home country, some people in it are utter dimwits.

Like King George. Or those men who own slaves. And my father. My mother too - and she isn't even British.

Oh, and that one sorry arse of a lad who once threw a crate full of teabags into the Atlantic Ocean.

Now, that lad was the definition of an a-hole.

But, I'm 17 now.

I need to learn to grow up.

To move on.

And getting caught up over this dingus that threw tea into the ocean when I was 8 isn't moving on.

"News! Get ya' news, right here, right now! Only 12 shillings! News!"

A man's calls interrupted my spiral of thoughts.

"How much?" I couldn't stop myself from asking, I felt a need to know what was going on outside my troubles.

Outside the constant balls, and corsets, and hiding the books I borrowed under my bed. Outside acting like I'm nothing, acting like I'm an object, like it's right to be used. Outside my entire façade, outside what I was taught at such a young age.

I wanted to be real.

I wanted to be me.

And that may take a while, but, goddamn it, I'm willing to wait for it.

And I-

Since when was I bloody deep? God, the cheesiness of reading that Hurricane poem a while back is getting to me.

Bloody hell, I don't even remember what I was talking about in the first place.

Screw you, emotions!

"12 shillings, my dear girl."

I checked my pockets: no money.

The man seemed to notice.

"Tell ya' what, you give me that lovely bracelet of your's," he looked pointedly at the gold bracelet hanging on my wrist, "and you get the whole lot."

Sighing, I slid the bracelet off of my wrist and onto his palm.

It's not like a bracelet would come in handy anytime soon, anyway.

A stack of newspapers were dropped half-heartedly onto my hands, the anonymous man skipping away with my bracelet, humming a tune that I could only assume to be Mozart's new composition.

Bloody hell, some people are insane.

Well, if I just lost gold for a stack of newspapers (overpriced, in my opinion), I might as well look at them.

The cover line of the first newspaper I saw caught my attention.

United States of America asks for war against United Kingdom

War? Against us? I've heard of the country America before, apparently it's one of our colonies. So why must they want war? We're not cruel people.

... are we?

I decided to read more.

Many Americans are hoping for a war to escape from The United Kingdom's crutches, claiming they are 'corrupt' and 'taxing too much.' Although this may be true, King George III states that Britain is 'doing the right thing' with their colonies, and 'America are just jealous. Ta-ta. Lots of love. Insert kissy face.'

Even if we've fought most of their wars, America's right: King George is an absolute douche. The almighty douche. He's such a douche, he created the term douche.

And, if he's treating us - his home land - poorly, imagine how he's treating them?

Well, I've always accounted myself as a well-read woman. So what's the harm in borrowing a book or two on this matter?

Like a wise man once said: if no-one knows, you're not breaking the law.

Heyy again, I wrote this part, so erm lol. Hope you enjoy :)