Chapter 1

16.3K 400 1K
                                    

"Mr. Jefferson, there's something in the dining room for you," one of the maids informed. Thomas Jefferson, the Jefferson sighed in frustration. He had a lot of work to do and loathed being bothered.

"It can wait," he growled, scribbling down a series of letters. He worked productively, not once looking up from the stacks of paper that were sprawled in front of him.

"With all due respect, sir, I believe you're going to enjoy it. It's quite the abnormal surprise." with that the maid shut the oak doors that closed off Jefferson from everyone. The man was hard-working, but could never live up to the expectation set by Alexander Hamilton.

With a heavy sigh Jefferson got up from his leather seat, the chair making a noise as his weight was lifted up from it's cushions. His curiosity got the best of him, and he slowly made his way to the dining room, his poise never faltering. He always held a demeanor that demanded respect, and he made sure that respect was given to him.

The marble stair case was freshly polished and shone like the morning sun over the horizon, he loved seeing his home freshly cleaned.

Jefferson opened the doors to the gigantic dining area that had been the host of many dinner parties, and saw you, your clothes a mess. You held a cake out for your father, your grin taking up the majority of your face.

"(Y/n)!" Jefferson yelled in shock. You smiled bigger. "Your gown! Your beautiful sea foam, silk gown!" he yelled, looking at the various ingredients that stained it.

You looked down at your dress, the fabric ripped in parts and stained in others. "Daddy, daddy I made you a cake!" you cheered, holding it up for him to see.

Jefferson sighed and carefully picked you up, careful not to stain his own clothes. "Who let you in there? You know you're not suppose to be in the kitchen cooking." your father scolded.

You dropped your head down in shame, warm tears brimming in your (e/c) orbs. You were a sensitive child, the slightest change in tone set you off.

Seeing this Jefferson sighed once more, taking you upstairs and to the restroom. "I'll fetch a maid to come clean you up. Make sure to wear your maroon gown tonight. We're going to be leaving for a dinner party at precisely 8 o' clock. Your hair is to be in a ballerina bun with two barrettes of your choice. I'll see you then."

With that Jefferson quickly made his way to his office, not wanting​ to waste a single second of time. You watched your father leave, you were sad that you couldn't spend much time with him. The most time you spent with him was when you would go to or host outings, but he was always too preoccupied with the company to mind much attention to you.

"Miss (y/n)," a maid, Elphie, said lightly "your father sent me to come clean you up."

[×]

You were finished getting ready by 7:30 so you took the time to wander around the mansion. Your home was amazing. It had more rooms that two people could possibly need, and each room was more elaborate and flashy than the last.

All the walls were painted the same purple color, and were coated in picture frames. You knew none of the people in the frames, but you assumed your father did.

The maids were all in a fuss, cleaning the mansion as if they were timed. They all worked efficiently with one another, never disturbing the other. As boredom took over you decided to take a stroll outside. The carriage that you saw almost every day was outside waiting for you and your father. Your favorite horse, Hector, was saddled up and ready to take off.

"Good evening, ma'am," the driver greeted, tipping his hat towards you. You returned his gesture with a curtsy.

"(Y/n), I've been looking for you everywhere! It's time we go." your father announced, shooing you into the carriage.

You took your usual seat that faced the front so that you could see everything, Jefferson sitting opposite of you.

"Daddy, where are we going to today?" you questioned carefully, not wanting to seem like you were prying. Your father was a fickle man, and you needed to watch your tongue around him.

"We're going to the Hamilton's residence so that I might discuss some political matters with Mr. Alexander Hamilton." you smiled, you'd never met them before.

"I'll never come to understand how that bastard, orphan grew up to be a world renowned hero and scholar." your father mumbled to himself, clutching the various papers he had in a stack on his lap to his chest.

Philip Hamilton X Reader (DISCONTINUED)Where stories live. Discover now