Y'all my friend historicfics_101 drew Annelle Livingston 😭
I love it sooooo much!!!!

As a thank you I decided to post the next chapter of Revolutionary Teen! However, this chapter is not fully edited so it will be shorter than usual. Be prepared for historical inaccuracies galore because nothing so far has given me an accurate description of hotels/hostels/motels/inns in the eighteenth century.

Aside from that, enjoy! (And thanks again historicfics_101!!!!!!!)

Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated 😁

Many hours later, the weary group finally rode into a small town. It was still light out, but the sun was slowly sinking in the west, casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets.

The group stopped near an inn and John slid off his horse to talk with the coachman and a short, stubby man who had emerged from the inn to greet them. They stood there for a few minutes before John walked towards Alex and Annelle, leading his horse behind him.

During the trip, Annelle had learned that John's appaloosa horse was named Apple. Annelle thought this information was hilarious and had laughed with Alex for a few minutes before they finally calmed down. John giving them a harsh glare hadn’t helped, and made them laugh harder.

“We’ll rest here for the night.” Laurens spoke, stopping next to Peacock. “Tomorrow, we’ll reconvene and make a game plan. Sound good?” Alex nodded and so did Annelle, sliding off her own horse. Alex copied her, taking hold of Peacock's reins.

John took Caramel’s reins from Annelle and led her horse as well as his own into the stables near the inn. Alex followed close behind with Peacock.

“Lady Livingston,” Annelle looked up to see Alex holding out his arm, a goofy smile plastered on his face. Annelle let out a laugh and wrapped her arm around his, letting him lead her into the inn, John close behind

Alex opened the door and they walked inside, John seperating from the duo to talk to the innkeeper.
Annelle immediately sat down once Alex led her to a chair, grateful that her chair wasn’t about to gallop down a steep hill, like Caramel did earlier that day. Alex decided to plop down on the chair next to Annelle with a sigh, rubbing his right shoulder. Annelle gave a quiet ‘hello’ and they chatted until John came back.

“I have enough for two rooms for the night- me and Alex could share one and Miss. Livingston could have her own, if that sounds reasonable?” Both Alex and Annelle nodded. John hummed in acknowledgment and left once more to pay.

Once John had left, Annelle sank back into her seat. She didn’t realize how tired she was until then- she thought it was the adrenaline rush she had felt since meeting the General and spending an entire week hanging out with Alexander Hamilton. Or maybe it had started the week before when she talked with Eldon. Well, Annelle thought with a sigh. it didn’t matter where it had started. What mattered was her adrenaline rush was finally wearing off and Annelle was tired and hungry.

John eventually came back a little while later, waking Annelle just before she was about to nod off.

"Let's get you to bed, shall we?" he said quietly, a hint of fondness lacing his tone. Annelle, in her tired state, only nodded and began to traipse behind Alex and John. Alex gingerly grabbed her wrist and led her upstairs to her room, John falling behind. Annelle could see he was almost as tired as she was.

"Where's we sleepin'?" She slurred, yawning mid-question, exhaustion clouding her vision.

A faint smile touched Alex's lips, although a hint of fatigue was noticeable in his features. Everyone was exhausted from the day-long journey. "The innkeeper said the first room on our right. So... here." John spoke up, brushing past Alex and pushing open the door, stepping inside. It was pitch black. Annelle felt a little disappointed. She never liked the darkness before. And she decided to make her point.

"'I don't like the darkness." She hastily whined. She felt like she was in a daze. Either that or she was drunk, despite never touching alcohol in her life.

"I know. I don't like it either." Alex's presence disappeared and she heard him moving around, fumbling for something. A muttered curse sounded -she was tempted to mutter ‘language’- and suddenly, the room flooded with light as Alex lit the candle he had found.

With the newfound light, Annelle glanced around the room, taking it in. It was definitely old fashioned, considering it was literally from the 18th century. It was small, but a little bigger than the room Annelle had stumbled into, two-hundred years later.

There wasn't much furnishing, save for a large bed with a chest laying at the foot, and a small desk pressed in a corner. A vanity not much bigger than the desk sat across from the bed, hugging the wall. Annelle barely registered John muttering something to Alex and stepping out of the room as she had moved forward and collapsed on the bed. It was surprisingly soft and Annelle found herself snuggling under the covers, nearly passing out the moment her head touched the pillow.

Alex seemed to notice this and abruptly wished Annelle a goodnight, then blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. She heard footsteps retreat and the door closing.

Sighing contently, she soon fell into a peaceful and blissfully dreamless sleep.

~

The next morning, Annelle woke first. She started to look around, forgetting where she was, until she saw the candle, desk, and a dirty window Annelle hadn’t noticed the night before. Yawning, she climbed out of bed and tidied up, opting to wake Alex and John next door.

She knocked on the door opposite her room and was pleasantly surprised to find that both men were awake and had just finished their own tidying.  “Good mornin’ Annelle,” John greeted with a yawn, a prominent southern accent leaking into his voice when he opened the door

Alex, who greeted Annelle in the same manner brushed past her to find a bathroom, or she assumed so. She picked up a hint of an accent in his voice as well. It sounded almost islandy, like Pueto Rico or Fiji. The island accent would make sense then, considering Alex was from the Caribbean. The man in question returned soon, just as she and John descended the stairs into the lobby of the inn.

“I believe the inn serves breakfast for an extra pound or two, so why don’t we get some then head to town?” The redhead and blondie agreed and John led the way to what seemed to be a parlor where they ate something Annelle didn’t recognize. Alex claimed it was porridge.

The innkeeper offered them some beer, cider, and some wine “for the lady” with their breakfast. John grabbed a mug and slurped it greedily while Alex took small, tentative sips. Annelle refused, however; she was too young to drink legally and although America wasn’t exactly a recognized country with drinking laws, the smell of alcohol made her feel sick.

John soon finished his meal and stood up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, and excused himself with the excuse that he needed to saddle the horses. When he had gone, Alex turned to Annelle. “Are you ready to go? We have a long ride in front of us before we reach the Schuyler's."