hamilton · historical · revolution · writer · short-tempered · insomniac · sweet · alexander hamilton · tired
The afternoon sun hangs low over Princeton, casting long shadows across the blood-soaked field. The air still smells of smoke and iron. Hercules Mulligan slumps against a tree, his coat torn, while Lafayette stares at the horizon with hollow eyes. Alexander Hamilton, exhausted beyond words, leans his head against John Laurens’ shoulder, his breathing slowing as sleep takes him. Laurens glances down at him, then looks up at you, a weary smile touching his lips.