History Has Its Eyes On You ~ A Hamilton Fanfiction (Book 1, Act 1)

Regrets

(Y/N POV)

We snook around the back of the village, behind the huts and past the chaos and screaming. I led the way, the mother waddling behind with the young boy cradled in her arms. The girl, who I assumed was a few years older than the boy, forced her mother along, tugging her hand as to beg for both of their lives. It was apparent she was struggling, her stomach swollen from the pregnancy. I wanted to help, but all I could do at this moment was get them out of danger.

I raised my arm out to the side to stop them, finding ourselves at the edge of the village. The wall engulfed us into one spot, and I scanned to make sure we were safe. If we were going to make it out alive, we would need to make a run for it. Fast. Sure, everyone was crowded around the other side, but they were guaranteed to point us out.

The mother clutched her stomach, snatching her hand away from her daughter. She fell to her knees, the boy gripping tightly to her shoulders; I knew at that moment she wouldn't last. With limited communication, it was best that I expressed my words through actions. I crouched down and held my hands out for me to carry the boy. She pulled him away protectively.

"It's okay," I comforted, holding my hands up into the air with surrender, "I won't hurt him. He'll be safe, you'll all be safe. No more fighting."

Her eyes expressed confusion, but she soon came to realise that I meant no harm. She turned to her son, and he innocently looked back at her. With every slight sound, he quivered in fear, taking her arms supportively. She kissed his forehead, speaking a language to him that I had never heard of in my lifetime. The woman gestured at me, the son cautiously stepping away from her and towards me.

I smiled at him, holding my arms out. He looked back at his mother, and she nodded with care. He gently took my hand, and I pulled him up into my grasp. I checked round the side; good, we were still clear. Shielding his head with the palm of my hand, I signalled at the mother and daughter before making a run for it. We dodged through the opening in the wall, leaping into a forest beyond us.

I slowed down once I'd realised we were out of bounds; nobody would come here, they were too busy fighting. Gosh... When-- If they find out, they're going to believe that I'm a coward. All I do is rescue people, and it's going to haunt me for the rest of my days. I should've never came here: what's the point of coming to a war if you aren't willing to fight? I set the boy on the ground, examining what lay ahead of us.

Peering through the trees, it seemed that there was a house, lying abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Vines spiralled around its boundaries, moss layering itself into the ancient blocks of wood. Would make a nice place for them to hide, providing it's sturdy enough.

I took steps towards it as the boy rushed back to his mother. The entry door broken on the ground, and the windows smashed in. However, the house was steady, from the looks of it. I lead the way inside, taking another glimpse at the scenerie. To my left was the living room, glass shattered across the green carpet. The couch was torn apart, and the only thing that was still standing was the bookshelf.

Its complexion was murky and dull, dust streamed across it entirely. Hadn't been touched in years. In front of me was a long hallway, the similar green carpet streaking through. At the end was the kitchen, to which mud was spotted around it. Old footprints, perhaps. Finally, at my right were the stairs. I padded each one delicately with my foot before standing on them, to make sure that they weren't going to fall through. The family followed behind, until we reached the top.

I hid us inside of a large bedroom, closing the door over to ensure we weren't being followed. I let out a thankful sigh, glad that we'd made it out. I had no intention of staying with these people, for I needed to get back to the camp. Therefore, I needed to make certain that they take shelter in here until we'd left.

The mother giggled with glee, checking on both of her children. With a wide smile, she parted her hands, grabbing my chin and kissing my cheek. The fact that she thought I was a man was truly awkward, but I went along with it. She grasped her daughter's shoulders, speaking directly at me. "Adsila." -She then immediately took her son- "Ahiga." Pointing at herself, she introduced, "Anna."

I understood what she was trying to do, so I gestured at myself also. "Charlie." I greeted.
"Charlie!" she exclaimed, kissing my cheek once more. This time, it was more passionate, as if she were proud that someone could finally understand her.

Studying the room, I found an old bed rotting away at the back. It had a broken wardrobe next to it, and it was apparent that clothes were hanging out. A large window was at the front, and I couldn't seem to draw my eyes off of it. I edged closer, watching as the world erupted into chaos from a distance. What was I doing? There was no way I could stay here, not in this. I should've known better... It's war. Perhaps Wilson was right.

"I know you can't understand me, and I'm probably just talking to myself, but..." -I released a gust of air- "Doing this is bad. I should be down there, sacrificing myself like everyone else. But instead, I... I try to avoid it. Maybe Alexander was right... I shouldn't have came here in the first place. Just stayed at home and worked hard to earn my place in the world. Not helping strangers when I'm supposed to be killing."

Suddenly, I could hear quiet sobbing behind me. Turning around away from the window, I could feel my heart sinking within my chest.

Ahiga trembled as Wilson held a sword to his throat.

"Hello there, Miller."