There was something about him that was different from the rest of the mortals Poseidon has met. The more he spent more time around him, the more he began to soften up. He had begun to speculate that he had fallen into a trap, in which Hamilton succeeded on doing.

Hamilton tapped his quill against the desk, his chin resting on the palm of his hand as he stared at the empty sheet of paper in front of him. It wasn’t easy being the right hand man of Washington. He wanted more action out in the battlefield, yet here he was writing a letter to congress.

“What am I going to do, Poseidon?” He asked the God of Sea. “Congress has yet sent us supplies! I don’t want our men eating our horses because…” He gave the God a knowing glance. Hamilton was doing everything in his power to prevent the army from murdering and eating their horses.

The wind howled furiously outside of the tent. Snow had once again, begun to fall delicately to the ground.

“Will this be the last time we’ll raise a glass to freedom?” He was beginning to doubt this whole revolution thing. The British had already had the army in ruins. Some of the American soldiers even deserting from the army, having giving up on the idea of freedom.

Hamilton sighed, dropping his quill on the table. He rested his head on his arms, staring at the flame on the candle. A comforting hand was placed on his head, slightly ruffling his hair.

“You’ve been with me since the beginning. The hurricane…” He blinked away the tears. “If I may ask, why? You’ve watched me grow. You were the father I never once had. If I can even call you one.” He lightly chuckled.