1. She Finds a Job

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(Y/N) brushed a (H/C) strand of hair off her grimy face. The rain beat down on her barely cloaked face, threatening to become sleet. She staggered with every step, yet held her head with a distinct sort of pride.

She'd been searching for a job for the rebellion for weeks now - months, maybe - to no avail. No posts would take her. She was "too weak", or "useless to the cause", or just simply "a woman".

She let out a spiteful laugh. She'd show them all.

For years, that was all she heard. She was just the daughter, the pretty one, the flower petal in a family of boys. Strong men who would make their father proud, they'd told him.

Then they'd look at her - a young girl with all the fire of a man coursing through her veins - and laugh.

She balled her fists. She'd find her place.

When (Y/N) finally dragged her feet onto the step of the building, and managed to knock, the door opened.

A tall, dark man looked down at her.

"You really put the mess in messenger, don't you?"

(Y/N) glared up at him through tired, red-rimmed eyes. "I'm not a messenger," she growled, filling the simple statement with all the force she could muster.

He raised his eyebrows, then laughed. "Well, I'm not going to leave a little lady like you out in the cold. Please, come in."

She bristled at his touch, as he helped her to her feet. His hand was the warmest thing she'd felt in days.

She let him help her inside, but as soon as she stepped into the building she pulled away from his grip.

"The fire's over here," he gestured, leading the way. She noticed he was careful not to touch her again as he walked alongside her.

Once she was reasonably comfortable, she looked up into the man's face. He looked at her with some form of amusement.

"So, what's the little lady doing in this part of the country?" He leaned back casually, but she could tell he was interested.

"I'm looking for a job with the rebellion." She tried to make it sound as blunt as possible.

Apparently she succeeded. The man looked taken aback, but then laughed.

"That's good. We could use a few hands around here. You can't imagine the kind of state this place is in, with so many men living in it all at once."

She glared. "I'm not interested in cleaning up after you. I want to be a soldier."

The grin slowly faded from his face. He looked like he was taking her in, scrutinizing her. Then he held out his hand.

"Aaron Burr," he smiled.

"(Y/N) (L/N)," she replied.

Aaron scratched his head thoughtfully. "Were you really serious about joining the war?"

"Yes."

His eyes twinkled. "In that case, it wouldn't hurt to introduce you to some of the, ah...other soldiers, then, would it?"

Getting the distinct impression that he was trying to scare her off, she reluctantly followed.

Aaron pushed open a door ever so slightly, and called a couple of people over.

"(Y/N), here's the guys you'd probably be paired up with if you did join," he told her.

A man with a bandana around his head poked out of the doorway.

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