#saw this post and immediately could hear them saying this during their sibling bickering lmao

[official-brennivin]

[matsumi101]

Who is this Kid?

Rabbles

Description:

Errands were as draining as they can get, but a commotion down the street catches your attention, fanning the dying flame in your heart and making it burn brighter than ever.

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Warnings: I cant think of one other than a cocky man coming ur way

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Notes:

> Masterlist

> This takes place during "Farmer Refuted" in the year 1776 (we’re following the musical’s timeline instead of the irl timeline)

> I honestly just wanted to write a scene prior to you running off to war

> The irl Farmer Refuted was done through pamphlets but the idea of Alexander and Seabury arguing in front of a live audience is much more appealing dont u think

> Ages of the siblings are as follows: You are 18 years old, Elise is 15, Abigail is 13, and Claude is 9

> Yo thanks for 100 follows?? where yall coming from lmao

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Taglist (if u wanna be added dont be shy and tell me!)

@thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @cutie1365 @girlmadeofivory @i-honestly-dont-know-anymore

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You tried your best to extend your already thinning patience as your nine year old sibling tugged on your skirt far too many times to count. He was already insisting to head home as if it wasn't his idea to join you and your sisters' run for errands. "Claude, we'll go home as soon as Abby and Elise returns from the post office," you assured tiredly. You drowned out Claude's whining with your own humming, holding the basket of groceries in front of you with both hands.

You were standing in the corner by a street sign, waiting for your younger sisters to return from their own errands. You’ve been going around the market the whole day, so you were just as eager as your youngest sibling to embrace the comfort of your home, more specifically your bed. You yawned absentmindedly, watching the crowd at the square across the street grow bigger and bigger. You didn’t know how much time passed, but you were sure whatever was happening was something interesting.

“Y/N, Y/N, what’s going on there?”

You looked down at Claude who was pointing at the crowd. “I have no idea,” you answered truthfully. “Can we see?” Claude begged. Your frown deepened at the idea of having to move any more than necessary, but you’d rather oblige to Claude’s request rather than listen to him repeat it over and over. You sighed, pulling up the basket so it rested on your left arm while you took Claude’s hand in your right one. “Let’s take a look, but don’t let go of me, okay?” you instructed. Claude nodded vigorously, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

After crossing the road and joining the crowd, you could hear the overwhelming mix of cheers, boos, jeers, and laughs. Your anxiousness grew as much as your curiosity while you tried to piece together what was happening. Apparently it was something about the revolution and the Congress, which was explanation enough for the varied comments, but you were yet to figure out the source. Holding Claude and your groceries tightly, you squeezed your way through the crowd until you were pretty much at the front. If you didn’t decide on that, you were sure that Claude would scale you just to see. There you finally see...

…chaos.

Up on the make-shift stage consisting of a number of crates was a pastor arguing with a short man, the latter whose temper you figured was just like his height based on how angry he looked. You stared at them with confusion as they continued to bicker, listening intently to catch up what they were fighting about.

“-and need I remind you about what happened in Boston?!” the shorter man exclaimed. "Look back at that and tell me again that chaos and bloodshed isn't existing at the hands of the British!"

You pursed your lips. Is he referring to the tea raid in Boston or the shootout? you wondered. You’d heard about both, and you knew those were morbid reminders that you were an British colony; no real control of the fate of the nation. You argued with your father about this once or twice, but you were only rebutted with the idea that you shouldn’t speak out about the issue or else the family business takes the blow. Regardless, you saw that Claude was enjoying his time.

You watched the argument ensue, an amused smile gracing your lips when the short man was starting to gain more support from the audience. He continued on talking about the unfairness of the Tea Act and the promises of freedom brought forth by the revolution if they were to win against Britain. Every word he threw out resonated deeply with your heart, but there was a nagging feeling telling you to stop that just wouldn't go away.

“Can you believe this guy?”

You glanced over your shoulder to see a guy talking to you. “That pipsqueak thinks a bunch of rabbles can overthrow the King!” he snickered. He wore a confident grin as he nudged your arm with his elbow. You gave him an uneasy smile as you took a small step away, holding your basket closer to your chest. “Come on, don’t act like they’ve got the upper hand! They’re practically scraping their knees for supplies.” You refused to reply to the boisterous man and instead turned away from him, and after doing so you could feel his scowl from behind.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“For the revolution!”

You looked up and saw that the short man was now facing the crowd, a fist in the air. “For the revolution!” a good number of the crowd cheered back, sending chills down your spine. You felt a tug on your hand, so you glanced down and saw Claude mimicking the guy with his hand that you were holding raised up. He held a wide and excited grin, showing off his missing tooth. You chuckled at him at how eager he looked.

“For the revolution!” the short man said once more, but louder.

The words rung in your ears like an echoing call this time around, and you felt a zap. There was a strange sensation in your gut, and it was rising to your chest. What was this feeling and why did it feel so... energizing? And why was it making your body move the way it shouldn’t be? Without second thought, you let go of Claude for just a moment, your fingers curling as you thrusted up your hand, and though it happened in just a flick it felt like the action took seconds. Your open smile slowly widened as you took a breath and let out those three words that you have longed to scream on the top of your lungs.

“FOR THE REVOLUTION!”

“You little-!”

You let out a yelp when you felt the man beside you harshly yank at the handle of your basket, pulling you uncomfortably close to him. You instinctively held on top of your groceries, fearing that some of the goods you bought would fall out. “Someone oughta teach you some manners,” the man growled. You scowled at him and tried to tug the basket away, but he only tightened his grip. “Sir, I have no intent to create a commotion, so please let go,” you requested as politely as you could through your gritted teeth.

“No, no. I’d rather teach you a lesson or two.”

“Sir, please let go.”

“Let go of my sister!”

“Claude, don’t!”

Before you could stop him, Claude ran up to the man and kicked him on the knee. You gasped at your brother’s rash decision, taking the opportunity of the man letting go of you to pull Claude away and take a few steps back. You couldn’t help a minute smile of pride when you looked down at Claude sticking a tongue out before it was immediately replaced with a wince when your almost assailant recovered, his face red with anger.

“Claude, get ready to run.”

"You ain't going nowhere, missy."

You held onto Claude's shoulder to pull him behind you then resting your hand at the side of your dress. Your eyes narrowed as you bunched your skirt enough that you could make a run without tripping, Claude clinging onto your arm in fear. The man was ready to grab you again when suddenly a large figure got in between. His back was turned to you, but you could hear his gruffy voice despite the noise of the crowd.

"Now you shouldn't be going something you'll regret," the newcomer warned. "Don't pour your anger on the lady 'cause she chose her nation over a prissy king. Now scram."

The man glared at him then directed it to you before storming off. You let out a shaky breath, glad that the large guy intervened. “Y/N?” Claude whispered fearfully. You moved your hand so you could hold him again, squeezing lightly to assure him that it was okay. “Let’s go home now, yeah?” you suggested. “Elise and Abby should be back by now, but don’t tell them or mom and dad about this.” Claude nodded timidly, pressing close to you. You began to make your way out of the crowd, but not without stopping at the man that helped you.

“Thank you for your help, sir.”

The man turned his head around, the long ends of his bandana whipping in the air as he did so. He flashed a large dorky grin and held a thumbs up. You couldn’t help but giggle at his demeanor before turning on your heels and walking away with Claude close behind you.

Hercules watched your fleeting figure disappear into the sea of people, his smile dropping slightly. He was a bit disappointed that he didn’t get to see your face properly, but knowing he helped you out was enough. After all, you were with them in their cause, and people like them and you had to look after each other.

“Alexander!”

You ignored whatever new chaos (Alexander got kicked off the platform) was created in the square and finally got to squeeze out of the place. You checked on Claude to see of he was okay, and to your relief he was. “Y/N, I want to be a soldier!” Claude suddenly declared. You nearly came to a halt if it wasn’t for you and him in the middle of crossing the street.

“Claude...”

“You heard what he was saying about the revolution! I know how much Ma and Pa loves tea, and wouldn’t it be great if we help those guys make it cheap?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Claude’s conclusion, but the unease still rested with you. You didn’t want to shut down Claude’s desire to support the revolutionary war, but at the same time you couldn’t have him go around and talk about it, especially with your father being against such things. You inhaled deeply as you tried to find the safest way to respond to him.

“As much as you want to join the war, you’re too young to enlist.”

“Aww...”

Claude jutted out his lower lip, showing off his ever so adorable pout. “Let the big guys deal with the baddies, okay?” you told him with a smile. “But I want to help!” Claude whined. “Help with what?” You were about to respond to Claude when another voice cut in. You turned your head and saw Elise and Abby at the spot where you were earlier, eyebrows raised as you neared them.

“Help with carrying the letters on the way home,” you answered Abigail without missing a beat. “Isn’t that right, Claude?”

You looked down at your youngest sibling with a close-eyed grin. Claude stared at you for a little bit until he understood what you were up to. “Yeah! I wanna carry the letters and deliver them to Papa!” he exclaimed, reaching out to the pile of letters Elise had with both his hands. Times like these you were thankful for two things: first that Claude was a smart boy, and second that you were his favorite sister. Elise giggled at your brother’s enthusiasm, bending down to hand him the stack. You smiled at the interaction, momentarily stopping when you felt Abigail take the basket from your arm.

“Let me carry that, Y/N. Your arm’s bruising already.”

You stretched out your arm, and you noticed that the area around your inner elbow was marked red (and nearly blue) with the outline of the basket handle’s design. Your lips drew flat, remembering what happened earlier. The man did aggressively pull on the basket, maybe the pain just didn’t settle that time with the adrenaline. You sighed, thanking Abigail for the initiative.

“Come on, let’s go home before sundown.”

You swooped Claude off the ground and carried him before heading to a direction, with Abigail and Elise behind you. “If you keep our little interaction in the square a secret, I’ll buy you lots of ice cream the next time we go out, okay?” you whispered to Claude, who giggled excitedly at the idea. “Okay!” he agreed with the same hushed tone. You mimicked his laughter before nuzzling his nose with yours, earning another round of giggles.

“Y/N?”

After a few minutes of a quiet walk, you heard Claude sleepily call to you. “Yes?” you hummed, lifting him up a bit to make sure he wasn’t falling. Your arms had long gone past the aching stage and was already numb from carrying him, but you knew this was the easiest way to keep your brother quiet. You were thankful you developed the arm strength for this. “If I can’t join the war because I’m too young, then you’re allowed to because you’re older, right?” he asked. You gave him a blank expression as you let his words sink.

“And if I am, what do you propose?”

“You can go for the both of us.”

Your breath hitched. “T-to war?” you stuttered quietly. Claude nodded, leaning on you as he pressed the letters to his chest. “Don’t you wanna give Ma and Pa cheap tea, too?” he pointed out. You tried to laugh, but all that came out of your mouth was an empty breath. “Well, I do,” you agreed dryly. Your legs felt heavy, and it was not because of carrying Claude.

“So you want me to be a soldier on your behalf?”

“Yeah!”

You bit your lip, knowing this promise was too great for you to keep. “I’ll ask Ma and Pa about it,” you answered slowly. “But I thought Ma and Pa didn’t like to talk about the revolution?” You sighed; Claude was right, but you couldn’t just go and draft yourself into the Continental Army. As much as you found the idea endearing, you were a woman; you had no place in the war, much more in the battlefield. “Worth a try to convince them,” you replied. You glanced down at Claude, your concerned frown melting into a smirk.

“And when I join, big sister Y/N will be the best damn soldier you’ll ever see.”