The new rumors started several days later. It was different than the last. The trusting camaraderie of his men turned chill, and many of them looked at him with questions and doubt in their eyes.
Israel noted the change. So did Sam and Paul, when they stopped to visit with their weekly news from the city front.
They told him that they had heard disturbing rumors. They told him that they had heard that Connor was seducing him to gain power. That he had fought all along for his own people and that, since George was the commander of the continental forces, he was trying to sleep with him to ensure his own people’s safety.
They said that Connor was wiling his way into George’s bed.
When George learned that, it felt as if all the breath had left his body.
His knees felt weak. They felt as if they would buckle at any moment.
That it should be so easy to stir up hatred against the young Omega he loved. That it should be so easy for his men to turn against the one who saved them time and time again.
He’d heard the recent stories. He’d noted how they’d subtly changed events, so that instead of Connor saving them, it was someone else instead.
Someone colonial. Someone Alpha. Someone white and of a solid protestant background.
And he’d been disbelieving at first, because they had all been there for many of his Wolf’s exploits. They had seen the truth with their own eyes. To hear them deny it now...
He’d thought it was impossible. He’d thought that, surely, it was just a bad joke going around. Surely they couldn’t believe something false when they had seen the truth with their own eyes.
He’d been wrong.
Men will believe what they want to believe, and will rewrite history so as not to challenge their sacred beliefs.
And they wanted to believe themselves superior to an Omega.
They wanted to believe themselves superior to a half-Native Omega who constantly saved them.
George was ashamed to realize that he had been like that too.
After all, hadn’t he ordered Native villages burned down in the past when they resisted? Hadn’t he ordered the seizure of some of the land?
He wanted to deny it. He wanted to console himself with thoughts that he was only alleviating the suffering of the colonies. That he was taking land not fully used and giving it to people who would be productive with it.
That was the problem, wasn’t it? He was taking land to the loss of one group of people to benefit another group of people. He was constantly making the decision that one group of people were more important than another.
And it wasn’t because he truly believed himself to be better as it was with other people of the colonies. He had told no lie when he last spoke to Connor. He was a student of history and fully cognizant that without the Natives, the colonies would never have survived, would never have progressed to the point they had.
And he respected them for that, though he had forgotten that respect when Braddock died. But he learned that respect anew. With Connor. With his beautiful Wolf.
No, his crimes were simply because the people he chose to benefit were his people. His duty was first and foremost to them, and if that meant he had to hurt other peoples...
It was no defense, he knew.
And it was sickening, in light of his attachment to his beautiful Wolf. But he could only move forward and resolve future issues through an impartial lens.
He would be better. He would give Connor no cause to doubt him.
And he would change his men’s opinions. He would change this somehow so these slanderous rumors against Connor would stop.
He must.
If they continued...
If they continued, his men would doubt his leadership. They would question his orders at critical times. People would die. They would lose.
It was inconceivable, the thought of the colonies suffering once again under the Crown’s rule. Spinning wheels being banned so that the colonies would be forced to trade their valuable raw goods for textiles and other goods made in England.
Smelters and metal-workers and other craftsmen forbidden to craft, so that England could have the best and most favorable market with which to gain economically, while the colonies are left behind to slave away for her glory.
They would decay. They would never be allowed to gain independence. They would never be allowed favorable trading terms or the abilities to make their own goods, all because the Crown needed to maintain the yoke around their necks.
The colonies were full of people who wanted to make their own way. They were industrious (though George personally loathed the squatters who refused to budge from his property). They desired to make their own textiles, rather than importing expensive British textiles. They wanted to work their own metal and make their own goods and be a nation that could be proud of itself.
A nation that was free and could stand on its own feet.
That was their dream.
It was the dream the Crown wouldn’t let them have.
Just like they’ve done in many, many other places.
They’d fought to rid themselves of the necessary yoke. They fought long and hard, and everyone made sacrifices.
And now this rumor was risking all of that. His men were letting the rumor risk all of that.
He could nip it all in the bud. He could deny his affections for his lovely Wolf.
He imagined what would happen if he did not marry Connor. He imagined the child being born into wedlock.
He saw, in his mind’s eye, his beautiful Wolf. He saw Connor being spat upon by the townsfolk and generally avoided. He saw that everyone refused to buy his goods and that he was cheated all the time when they did. He saw his proud Wolf reduced to a husk of his former self, relegated to the outskirts of society.
He would be lucky. He had enough hunting skills that he would never starve. But it would be a difficult and miserable life for him. He would turn cold and bitter.
And his child...
A child in his arms, whimpering at the cold glares from the townsfolk. Innocent of the world and yet condemned by it.
Or, his mind grasped frantically, or Connor would remove himself back to his people. He would be accepted there.
But...but there were already whisperings of jealousy at the vast tracts of land that belonged to the Native tribes. The colonies lusted over that land, over all that land going wasted and most being made to better use.
Livestock. A farm. A respectable living.
It wasn’t a far leap to imagine that there would be conflict. And what would happen to Connor? What would he do, if the Natives and the colonies ever warred against each other?
It was unbearable. He could not deny his affections. He wouldn’t.
He’d just have to find some other way to rid himself of these rumors.
He wasn’t about to lose his future with Connor.
“Sir!”
He looked up to see a young messenger drop a letter in his hand.
“From the Wolf, sir.”
From Connor. Quickly, he thanked the boy and handed him a coin and then retreated into the privacy of his own tent.
The situation was too delicate to read it out in the open.
At the first words, his countenance stiffened, and his mouth fell slack-jawed.
Dearest George,
My recruits have relayed to me the happenings at the camp. I am sorry that I did not foresee this.
Your position is too important to this war and to your people. And, so, I respectfully withdraw from our arrangement.
Please forgive me.
I remain respectfully yours,
Connor
His hands crumpled the letter, and he snarled.
He was not losing the Omega he loved. He refused to lose Connor.
Not to Charles Lee’s manipulations. Not to his own men’s jealousy and wounded pride. Not to anyone.
Strange Fates 11
Chapter 11 - Second Move
The new rumors started several days later. It was different than the last. The trusting camaraderie of his men turned chill, and many of them looked at him with questions and doubt in their eyes.
Israel noted the change. So did Sam and Paul, when they stopped to visit with their weekly news from the city front.
They told him that they had heard disturbing rumors. They told him that they had heard that Connor was seducing him to gain power. That he had fought all along for his own people and that, since George was the commander of the continental forces, he was trying to sleep with him to ensure his own people’s safety.
They said that Connor was wiling his way into George’s bed.
When George learned that, it felt as if all the breath had left his body.
His knees felt weak. They felt as if they would buckle at any moment.
That it should be so easy to stir up hatred against the young Omega he loved. That it should be so easy for his men to turn against the one who saved them time and time again.
He’d heard the recent stories. He’d noted how they’d subtly changed events, so that instead of Connor saving them, it was someone else instead.
Someone colonial. Someone Alpha. Someone white and of a solid protestant background.
And he’d been disbelieving at first, because they had all been there for many of his Wolf’s exploits. They had seen the truth with their own eyes. To hear them deny it now...
He’d thought it was impossible. He’d thought that, surely, it was just a bad joke going around. Surely they couldn’t believe something false when they had seen the truth with their own eyes.
He’d been wrong.
Men will believe what they want to believe, and will rewrite history so as not to challenge their sacred beliefs.
And they wanted to believe themselves superior to an Omega.
They wanted to believe themselves superior to a half-Native Omega who constantly saved them.
George was ashamed to realize that he had been like that too.
After all, hadn’t he ordered Native villages burned down in the past when they resisted? Hadn’t he ordered the seizure of some of the land?
He wanted to deny it. He wanted to console himself with thoughts that he was only alleviating the suffering of the colonies. That he was taking land not fully used and giving it to people who would be productive with it.
That was the problem, wasn’t it? He was taking land to the loss of one group of people to benefit another group of people. He was constantly making the decision that one group of people were more important than another.
And it wasn’t because he truly believed himself to be better as it was with other people of the colonies. He had told no lie when he last spoke to Connor. He was a student of history and fully cognizant that without the Natives, the colonies would never have survived, would never have progressed to the point they had.
And he respected them for that, though he had forgotten that respect when Braddock died. But he learned that respect anew. With Connor. With his beautiful Wolf.
No, his crimes were simply because the people he chose to benefit were his people. His duty was first and foremost to them, and if that meant he had to hurt other peoples...
It was no defense, he knew.
And it was sickening, in light of his attachment to his beautiful Wolf. But he could only move forward and resolve future issues through an impartial lens.
He would be better. He would give Connor no cause to doubt him.
And he would change his men’s opinions. He would change this somehow so these slanderous rumors against Connor would stop.
He must.
If they continued...
If they continued, his men would doubt his leadership. They would question his orders at critical times. People would die. They would lose.
It was inconceivable, the thought of the colonies suffering once again under the Crown’s rule. Spinning wheels being banned so that the colonies would be forced to trade their valuable raw goods for textiles and other goods made in England.
Smelters and metal-workers and other craftsmen forbidden to craft, so that England could have the best and most favorable market with which to gain economically, while the colonies are left behind to slave away for her glory.
They would decay. They would never be allowed to gain independence. They would never be allowed favorable trading terms or the abilities to make their own goods, all because the Crown needed to maintain the yoke around their necks.
The colonies were full of people who wanted to make their own way. They were industrious (though George personally loathed the squatters who refused to budge from his property). They desired to make their own textiles, rather than importing expensive British textiles. They wanted to work their own metal and make their own goods and be a nation that could be proud of itself.
A nation that was free and could stand on its own feet.
That was their dream.
It was the dream the Crown wouldn’t let them have.
Just like they’ve done in many, many other places.
They’d fought to rid themselves of the necessary yoke. They fought long and hard, and everyone made sacrifices.
And now this rumor was risking all of that. His men were letting the rumor risk all of that.
He could nip it all in the bud. He could deny his affections for his lovely Wolf.
He imagined what would happen if he did not marry Connor. He imagined the child being born into wedlock.
He saw, in his mind’s eye, his beautiful Wolf. He saw Connor being spat upon by the townsfolk and generally avoided. He saw that everyone refused to buy his goods and that he was cheated all the time when they did. He saw his proud Wolf reduced to a husk of his former self, relegated to the outskirts of society.
He would be lucky. He had enough hunting skills that he would never starve. But it would be a difficult and miserable life for him. He would turn cold and bitter.
And his child...
A child in his arms, whimpering at the cold glares from the townsfolk. Innocent of the world and yet condemned by it.
Or, his mind grasped frantically, or Connor would remove himself back to his people. He would be accepted there.
But...but there were already whisperings of jealousy at the vast tracts of land that belonged to the Native tribes. The colonies lusted over that land, over all that land going wasted and most being made to better use.
Livestock. A farm. A respectable living.
It wasn’t a far leap to imagine that there would be conflict. And what would happen to Connor? What would he do, if the Natives and the colonies ever warred against each other?
It was unbearable. He could not deny his affections. He wouldn’t.
He’d just have to find some other way to rid himself of these rumors.
He wasn’t about to lose his future with Connor.
“Sir!”
He looked up to see a young messenger drop a letter in his hand.
“From the Wolf, sir.”
From Connor. Quickly, he thanked the boy and handed him a coin and then retreated into the privacy of his own tent.
The situation was too delicate to read it out in the open.
At the first words, his countenance stiffened, and his mouth fell slack-jawed.
Dearest George,
My recruits have relayed to me the happenings at the camp. I am sorry that I did not foresee this.
Your position is too important to this war and to your people. And, so, I respectfully withdraw from our arrangement.
Please forgive me.
I remain respectfully yours,
Connor
His hands crumpled the letter, and he snarled.
He was not losing the Omega he loved. He refused to lose Connor.
Not to Charles Lee’s manipulations. Not to his own men’s jealousy and wounded pride. Not to anyone.
Not even to Connor himself.
He would fix this.