Edwards grows more incensed with each refusal. More vicious, more biting. He never did like hearing no.
"You are mad. I could have you put away for less," he hisses at Burr that morning, just outside the door to his cabin. "Omegas have been put away for less. Only a mad man would take a baby to war. This is no place for her, and if you cared for her at all you would return home with me, where we can make some effort towards correcting you."
Burr is unmovable, but that does not stop Edwards from trying. He waits for the perfect moment--when Laurens is delivering a letter and Theodosia has just finished her lunch, needing to be walked and burped. Burr cannot put off his work, and though Hamilton tries to persist, the afternoon finds Burr working at his small desk, sorting through piles of disciplinary reports.
That is where he is when Edwards walks in, intent, apparently, on enlisting Washington's help in this matter. Washington, for his part, seems wholly put out; too much work always, to be dealing with a matter like this. But there is nothing to be done, when a gentleman is addressing his superior.
"You must see common sense," Edwards appeals. "You should see already what the British are printing about the matter. It is a sham, to have him here with her, a danger to the whole of the army. Don't tell me you have not already had to make accommodations for him, and his delicacy. What do you think the British will do to them, if the worst is to happen, and your headquarters are breached? They will not spare a small babe, and if they do spare an omega it will be only for a bit of passing fun. Death would be merciful then. You must assist me in saving my nephew and my grandchild, he cannot be reasoned with."
Edwards speaks passionately--worked up, leaning over the side of Washington's desk, with the voice he uses when preaching. Death, fire, damnation. He does sound convincing, and Burr has no doubt that he believes what he is saying.
Washington doesn't speak for a long moment--processing, and considering the room. Yes, he is put-out, and trying to figure out what to say, in so delicate a situation. Likely to wash his hands of the whole thing, Burr thinks. Likely to send him away. Burr rises suddenly, to protest, but Washington holds up his hand, a small hard glare, and Burr sinks back down, lips pressed hard together.
"It is my understanding that you no longer are the Captain's most immediate family, and though you worries are commendable, this is a matter to discuss with his husband, as the final say rests with him."
"I do not recognize the marriage," Edwards says, tightly, face going a bit red.
"Regardless of what you recognize, Reverand, it is a marriage that the colonies does recognize, and therefore I have no place in interfering." Amusement--he thinks Edwards is just another unhappy relative, with children playing at war.
"But you do have power, General. This is your battlefield. Your army."
"My men still have some autonomy, Sir. We are not a monarchy--I would give the Captain freedom in this manner."
"Sir--you should know I have a good deal of sway in these states. A good many connections, and support."
"Say anymore Reverand, and you are bordering on treason."
"I thought we commended treason in these colonies. You must hold something dear, if not family. Make your peace with god, for you shall have no help from me."
Edwards doesn't bow, when he walks away, but he does stop before Burr's desk.
"Boy," he barks. "I would speak to you outside."
"I am on duty uncle," Burr says, slowly. "Anything you wish to say you shall have to say here."
"Stand, while I am addressing you."
A beat of silence. Washington says nothing, bend back to his papers. Patience worn away already, giving Edwards these last few liberties in the hopes that they will be the last. Burr pushes his chair back, but does not move out from behind his desk. A measure of authority, confronting Edwards in this way.
"You have been a disgrace to this family. A disappointment, before us and god. I have given you freedoms you do not deserve, and you will tender your resignation and return home with me tomorrow, or I shall revoke your birthright and have you committed. Your daughter shall be taken away, and you shall not see her until you renounce your disgraceful ways and I pronounce you of fit mind. You are to tend to these things immediately."
"I thank you sir, I shall not," Burr says, and his heart pounds, limbs starting to shake. Edwards would not likely discipline him here, in front of Washington, though he has struck Burr in public before, as a child. Never was there an opportunity he could remember, where disrespect was not awarded with a good beating.
"Pardon me, boy?"
"I shall not, and cannot, and if I could I still would not, even were the British on their way here this very instant."
"Have you no care for your child?"
"My primary concern is for her, and I would sooner surrender her to the British than to send her with you." His voice quivers, and his feet itch to step back, but he stands his ground.
"Sir," Washington says, standing. "You have heard his answer, and now I must request you leave us to our work."
"Ungrateful devil of a child, who has no more loyalty than he showed in allowing some Irish bastard to breed him at the first opportunity--"
"Loyalty is to be met with respect, and you have none--"
Burr starts, but he is quickly rendered silent with a hard fist across his jaw, blooming pain, and he falls backwards, colliding with the wall and tumbling to the floor, cradling his face. Blood--Edward's rings. Heavy boots, starting after him, and be braces for a kick, familiarity.
Shouting, as he scoots quickly against the wall, covering himself, waiting for more blows to land.
"He is my charge, and therefore it is my responsibility to discipline him!" Edwards shouts.
no subject
"You are mad. I could have you put away for less," he hisses at Burr that morning, just outside the door to his cabin. "Omegas have been put away for less. Only a mad man would take a baby to war. This is no place for her, and if you cared for her at all you would return home with me, where we can make some effort towards correcting you."
Burr is unmovable, but that does not stop Edwards from trying. He waits for the perfect moment--when Laurens is delivering a letter and Theodosia has just finished her lunch, needing to be walked and burped. Burr cannot put off his work, and though Hamilton tries to persist, the afternoon finds Burr working at his small desk, sorting through piles of disciplinary reports.
That is where he is when Edwards walks in, intent, apparently, on enlisting Washington's help in this matter. Washington, for his part, seems wholly put out; too much work always, to be dealing with a matter like this. But there is nothing to be done, when a gentleman is addressing his superior.
"You must see common sense," Edwards appeals. "You should see already what the British are printing about the matter. It is a sham, to have him here with her, a danger to the whole of the army. Don't tell me you have not already had to make accommodations for him, and his delicacy. What do you think the British will do to them, if the worst is to happen, and your headquarters are breached? They will not spare a small babe, and if they do spare an omega it will be only for a bit of passing fun. Death would be merciful then. You must assist me in saving my nephew and my grandchild, he cannot be reasoned with."
Edwards speaks passionately--worked up, leaning over the side of Washington's desk, with the voice he uses when preaching. Death, fire, damnation. He does sound convincing, and Burr has no doubt that he believes what he is saying.
Washington doesn't speak for a long moment--processing, and considering the room. Yes, he is put-out, and trying to figure out what to say, in so delicate a situation. Likely to wash his hands of the whole thing, Burr thinks. Likely to send him away. Burr rises suddenly, to protest, but Washington holds up his hand, a small hard glare, and Burr sinks back down, lips pressed hard together.
"It is my understanding that you no longer are the Captain's most immediate family, and though you worries are commendable, this is a matter to discuss with his husband, as the final say rests with him."
"I do not recognize the marriage," Edwards says, tightly, face going a bit red.
"Regardless of what you recognize, Reverand, it is a marriage that the colonies does recognize, and therefore I have no place in interfering." Amusement--he thinks Edwards is just another unhappy relative, with children playing at war.
"But you do have power, General. This is your battlefield. Your army."
"My men still have some autonomy, Sir. We are not a monarchy--I would give the Captain freedom in this manner."
"Sir--you should know I have a good deal of sway in these states. A good many connections, and support."
"Say anymore Reverand, and you are bordering on treason."
"I thought we commended treason in these colonies. You must hold something dear, if not family. Make your peace with god, for you shall have no help from me."
Edwards doesn't bow, when he walks away, but he does stop before Burr's desk.
"Boy," he barks. "I would speak to you outside."
"I am on duty uncle," Burr says, slowly. "Anything you wish to say you shall have to say here."
"Stand, while I am addressing you."
A beat of silence. Washington says nothing, bend back to his papers. Patience worn away already, giving Edwards these last few liberties in the hopes that they will be the last. Burr pushes his chair back, but does not move out from behind his desk. A measure of authority, confronting Edwards in this way.
"You have been a disgrace to this family. A disappointment, before us and god. I have given you freedoms you do not deserve, and you will tender your resignation and return home with me tomorrow, or I shall revoke your birthright and have you committed. Your daughter shall be taken away, and you shall not see her until you renounce your disgraceful ways and I pronounce you of fit mind. You are to tend to these things immediately."
"I thank you sir, I shall not," Burr says, and his heart pounds, limbs starting to shake. Edwards would not likely discipline him here, in front of Washington, though he has struck Burr in public before, as a child. Never was there an opportunity he could remember, where disrespect was not awarded with a good beating.
"Pardon me, boy?"
"I shall not, and cannot, and if I could I still would not, even were the British on their way here this very instant."
"Have you no care for your child?"
"My primary concern is for her, and I would sooner surrender her to the British than to send her with you." His voice quivers, and his feet itch to step back, but he stands his ground.
"Sir," Washington says, standing. "You have heard his answer, and now I must request you leave us to our work."
"Ungrateful devil of a child, who has no more loyalty than he showed in allowing some Irish bastard to breed him at the first opportunity--"
"Loyalty is to be met with respect, and you have none--"
Burr starts, but he is quickly rendered silent with a hard fist across his jaw, blooming pain, and he falls backwards, colliding with the wall and tumbling to the floor, cradling his face. Blood--Edward's rings. Heavy boots, starting after him, and be braces for a kick, familiarity.
Shouting, as he scoots quickly against the wall, covering himself, waiting for more blows to land.
"He is my charge, and therefore it is my responsibility to discipline him!" Edwards shouts.